Falling
by Arabesque01
Summary: What happens when a hidden past becomes hopelessly intertwined with the present? Our favorite detective may finally crack... “Docket ending 1762. People of the state of New York versus Olivia Benson. One count murder in the second degree.“
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

"Detective Benson."

Olivia froze midway through pouring a cup of coffee at the sound of the familiar voice. She let her eyes flutter shut, allowed the accusation and hurt in those two words to settle deep within her. Her mind raced for words of comfort, for anything that might help Laurel to cope with the reality that everything she had just been through had been for nothing. Olivia set the mug down, turning hesitantly toward Laurel. She felt the sting from the hand that swept across her face long before the words sank in. "You're gonna make me go through this again."

Olivia stepped back stunned, her hand instinctively coming up to protect her jaw. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elliot rising from his desk to come to restrain Laurel. With a sudden sense of panic, her hand shot up again, motioning for him to stay back. "I'm fine," she whispered quickly. Olivia took a deep breath as she saw Elliot freeze in place, his posture still guarded, ready to spring to life at any moment. When she realized he had stopped, she finally allowed herself to turn back to Laurel. "It was my duty to turn those photos over," she began softly.

Laurel drew in a shaky breath. "I thought your duty was to protect victims like me."

_Victims like me._

Olivia stared back into the haunted eyes that mirrored her own and cringed inwardly. "Believe me Laurel, the last thing that I want to do…" Her eyes darted back and forth as she suddenly realized that Elliot had stepped closer again and was now within earshot…" is to hurt your case," she finished shakily.

Olivia could hear her breath quickening, could see the words forming in Laurel's mouth, words that Elliot was now close enough to hear. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the final straw—the final defeat. She had done everything she could to keep him from finding out, and now it was going to happen. Oh, God, not like this. Not here, not now. She wasn't ready for that. She wasn't ready to admit what had happened. Telling Laurel had been a mistake. She had wanted…no, she had needed to say the words out loud. She had needed to pretend that they could be true, pretend that her life could fit into some neatly defined sense of normalcy. She needed to convince herself that everything could be okay, that she could be strong again. She needed to convince herself that she had her life back, that somehow she could once again maintain some sense of control over her life.

Laurel gulped for air, fighting against her tears. "You made me remember…relive that awful night. And now for the rest of my life, I will never get those horrible images out of my head."

Olivia's mind was still racing. She barely heard the words Laurel flung at her. Oh, God, she couldn't let this happen. She had to stop her. Olivia raised her hands quickly in an effort to calm Laurel down. "Laurel…" she begged softly. A look of resolution crossed over Laurel's face and complete and utter panic swept over her.

_To survive, she had to be tough. She had to be better._

Pruitt's words swept over her now as tears sprang to her eyes. Olivia had tried to be tough. She had tried to be strong. That was her job. If she couldn't be strong, how could she help other victims find strength? Olivia's eyes swept back over to Elliot, and she ducked her head ever so slightly, unable to meet the accusation, hurt, and pain that would be reflected in his irises when Laurel's words sank in…when he finally understood. If she couldn't be strong for other victims, how could she be strong enough for him?

_How can a man trust you to watch his back until you prove that you can?_

Olivia felt her breath constricting in her throat, heard the ragged sounds that escaped from her mouth. This was it, the final straw that would take away every last bit of her control. This was the moment when Elliot would realize that she wasn't strong enough to protect him. This was the moment he realized that she was no better than any other victim that walked in off the street. No, wait…she took that back. She was far worse than every victim that walked in off the street. Because at least the women who came into the 1-6 were strong enough to tell their stories, were strong enough to confront their attackers. She let her eyes drop away from Laurel's accusing ones as the shame rolled over her again. Her own words rang out in her mind.

_Admitting that it happened and putting the man that did it behind bars…_

Olivia wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. She had wanted to believe that helping Ashley put Harris behind bars would be enough. But she was nothing more than a hypocrite. She had told herself that she would always come forward. She had told herself that healing came from confronting her attacker. But when it came right down to it, she hadn't been able to do anything more than try to protect everyone around her from the truth. She wanted to believe her reasons for assuring Fin he had arrived in time to stop anything from happening had been noble. She wanted to believe that she had been protecting all of them when she told Cragen that of course she hadn't let Harris touch her, but she had let him take her to the basement with the intent to rape her. She wanted to believe that all of them believed her when she said that nothing had happened. But it had all been a lie. She wasn't protecting them—she was protecting herself.

_But I've learned to deal with it…and I have my life back._

Olivia forced herself to look at the hurt in Laurel's eyes. It had all been a lie, some myth perpetrated by those who promised that recovery was possible. Recovery… how the hell had she managed to convince other women that such a thing existed? How the hell had she managed to convince herself? She was crumbling—slowly, painfully, as if peeling away every thread of a defense system that up until now had always managed to fool everyone else. One step at a time, she felt the guilt pulling her under until she had lost her ability to swim upward. And as soon as the words escaped from Laurel's mouth, as soon as the truth came out, the tenuous life ring keeping her afloat would go under too, and Olivia would have nothing left to cling to.

"And I won't testify again," Laurel interrupted her quickly, spinning around and walking away just as suddenly as she had come. As Olivia watched her go, she felt her shoulders slump forward dejectedly. Laurel's final words echoed in her head. Laurel hadn't said a word. She hadn't betrayed her confidence. But Olivia had betrayed her. She had made her believe that everything was going to be okay. She had told her that they would be able to stop Lutz. She had given her hope only to pull it away from her again. Olivia wasn't sure which emotions were worse—the terror that Laurel would reveal the truth about Sealview in front of Elliot, or the utter heart-wrenching guilt that was consuming her now.

_I can protect her from the damage._

Olivia had wanted to believe there was some truth behind her words. She had wanted to believe that she could protect Laurel from going through the hurt, the pain, and the guilt that consumed her now. She wanted to believe that somehow, she could change things. But she had failed miserably. And now, Olivia wasn't sure at what point protecting others from this pain had become more important to her than closing a case. She wasn't sure at what point she had lost her ability to fight back, or to do her job. She felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. She had needed to believe that she could save others from the pain, but one by one she had failed. She wasn't sure which was worse…the pain of knowing she hadn't been able to protect Laurel, or the reality that Lutz was going to continue to victimize other women.

"Are you okay?"

It took Olivia a moment to realize that Elliot had spoken. She stared back at him, finally allowing herself to meet his eyes, and she faltered. She didn't have the strength to fight back, didn't have the strength to pretend that Laurel's words hadn't affected her. "No," she whispered. Before he could question her response, she knew she needed to escape. She couldn't listen to him tell her it hadn't been her fault because it had been. She couldn't listen to him tell her she had just been doing her job because doing her job was supposed to help people. Forcing Laurel Andrews to relive her rape, forcing Linnie Malcolm to confront her past, and allowing Mia Lorimer to make her own decisions had done nothing but hurt them.

If that's what doing her job meant, she wasn't so sure she could handle what the next case might bring. If that's what doing her job meant, she had no idea who she was anymore because she had let her job define her entire life. She wasn't ready to confront what would happen if she lost that. She wasn't ready to deal with how doing her job was affecting others. And she sure as hell wasn't ready for Elliot to judge her, to make that decision for her. So she did the only thing she knew how to do. Without giving him a chance to respond, she ran. She spun on her heels, allowing her footsteps to take her further and further away until she could finally figure out how to breathe again. She needed to escape—escape from this case, escape from Elliot, escape Laurel's accusing glare.

Without any clue where she was going, Olivia allowed her feet to take her further away, allowed the tears in her eyes to blur each step forward and send her crashing backward again. She didn't stop until she reached the roof. Olivia didn't care that it was December, and that the biting cold felt as if it were assaulting her body at every turn. She didn't care that the rain falling down mingled with her tears. She needed the pain to make things real again, needed to feel something more than the hollowness that consumed her now. She needed perspective, needed some way to force Eric Lutz's hand and prevent Laurel from reliving the horror of her own attack.

Olivia needed closure because without it, she wasn't sure she could take that step forward to the next case. She needed closure to move forward, needed to feel as if something she did could somehow help others again. Olivia stopped at the edge of the roof, vaguely wondering at what point, she had lost perspective, lost her ability to maintain distance from the victims. She let her legs drop out from beneath her, allowed her body to crumble to the ground and wrapped her arms around her knees. She barely felt the wind that ripped past her body, barely felt the way the tears seemed to freeze on her cheek. She buried her face in her knees and finally allowed herself to let everything go.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

  
"Tell me what happened next, Olivia."

Olivia turned back toward the woman sitting across from her at the couch as if she'd grown a second head. "What do you mean—what happened next? I went back to work, Margo." Olivia sighed. "As soon as everyone went home for the night, I went back to work. I found his first victim, and we convinced him to plead out the case."

"So you took care of his victims. But did it ever occur to you to try taking care of yourself?"

Had she taken care of herself? Olivia froze and averted her eyes away from Margo's. Of course she hadn't taken care of herself. She was fine. She didn't need to take care of herself. Laurel needed her. Kelly needed her. How could she be so selfish to worry about her own needs when clearly there were so many other women who needed her more? She chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully, wondering exactly what Margo wanted her to say. God, she hated shrinks. How the hell was she supposed to answer that question anyway?

As if sensing her hesitation, Margo responded for her. "Olivia, there's no right and wrong answer. But you have to talk to me. I can't help you if you won't tell me what's going on."

Shit…apparently no response was just as bad as the wrong one. Olivia opened her mouth as if to speak, but somehow she couldn't seem to find the words she needed. She clamped her mouth shut, rolling her eyes upward and took a deep breath as if to calm herself. "He sent me home." When she spoke, her confession was suddenly soft, vulnerable.

"Who sent you home Olivia?" Margo's voice was firm, but quiet.

"My captain," Olivia admitted. She shook her head quickly to fight off the emotion behind her words, but she couldn't help hearing the hurt behind them. "He uh…he told me to take some time off." She closed her eyes. "It's not the first time, but I…I didn't exactly listen the first time."

"When was the first time Olivia?" Margo pried gently.

Olivia hesitated, her eyes darting back and forth as if searching for an escape. She glanced down at the phone at her belt, desperately praying for a call, an emergency, anything that might give her the opportunity to avoid answering the question. This was the last thing she needed to deal with right now. But Margo was not letting up. And her phone sure as hell was not going to ring. Olivia sighed, allowing her gaze to drop down to the floor. "It was after the Crewe's case," she finally admitted. As soon as the words left her lips, she waited for the response.

There was a long moment of silence. Olivia waited. Great, somehow she had even managed to unnerve her shrink. Way to go Benson. Maybe this is why she'd always avoided going to therapy.

Finally, Margo cleared her throat. "Olivia, I'm sorry. I should have never gotten you involved."

Oh, God, Olivia knew she couldn't take this. She didn't need Margo's guilt on top of everything else. "Margo, please." Olivia finally raised her face to meet the other woman's. "I'm not asking for an apology. It's not your fault that I…" Olivia froze. Oh, God. She hadn't really said that out loud, had she?

Margo furrowed her brow. "That you what… Olivia?"

Olivia sighed. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Olivia, what happened during the case?"

"Margo, I really don't want to talk about this right now. I…I have to go." Olivia pulled herself up to her feet. She let her eyes drop down to the floor as she gathered up her purse, her coat. She was halfway to the door before Margo finally spoke.

When she did, Margo's voice was quiet. "Olivia, why did you come here today?"

Olivia froze with one hand on the door. Slowly she turned back around. "I don't know," she admitted softly. "Margo, I feel like I can't do anything right anymore. I guess I just needed to find out if I made the right decision."

Margo studied her face carefully, searching for a response. "The right decision about what, Olivia?"

Olivia felt her throat constricting, felt the tears that burned behind her eyelids. Before they could fall, before she lost control over it all, she had to get out of here. Without another word, she turned back toward the door, allowing it to fall shut behind her, leaving Margo's question unanswered. Because she couldn't say it. She was afraid that if she allowed herself to speak the words out loud, she would fall apart again. She was afraid that if she allowed herself to speak the words out loud, it might become real.

*************************************************************************************

Elliot allowed his keys to fall on his desk as he casually shrugged off his jacket. His eyes scanned over his desk for any sign of a new case. "Another quiet night," he observed with a frown.

"Looks that way," Munch responded, lifting his eyes ever so slightly to peer out over his glasses. He nodded across the room to where Fin was pouring himself a cup of coffee. "But that would be based on the assumption that my partner didn't decide to fly solo last night. He's barely spoken two words to me since he got here."

"Trouble in paradise," Elliot laughed as he slid into his seat. With a couple of quick keystrokes, he pulled up his email account as soon as the screen came to life and scanned his inbox for a new message. There was nothing new.

"Yeah, kind of like your partner. So when is your better half coming back from her impromptu vacation?"

Elliot sighed. "I have no idea. All I did was take my kids on a much needed trip to Disney, which I might add, I am never doing again. What did you do—scare her off?"

Before Munch could respond, Cragen's office door flew open. He barely took two steps out of his office before he barked out an order. "Fin, my office…now!" He turned abruptly and retreated just as fast as he came.

Munch raised his eyebrows. "Hmmm, maybe I did miss something last night."

Fin sauntered over. "What did I do now?" He set his mug down on his desk, exchanging looks with both Elliot and Munch.

"I don't know, but I think Dad may be steaming more than that coffee there," Munch observed wryly.

"Yeah, very funny" Fin returned, glancing back at the mug on his desk. "Seriously, what did I do?"

"Don't look at me. I've only been back for two days," Elliot responded, holding up his hands in self defense. He locked his hands behind his head, rocking back in his chair and watching as Fin cautiously crossed the bullpen toward the Captain's office. "Time to watch the fireworks fly," he observed.

Munch frowned. "That's easy for you to say. It's not your partner on the chopping block."

"Oh, come on, Munch. He's not even working a case right now. How much trouble can he be in? I'll bet you twenty bucks it turns out to be no big deal."

"Twenty bucks, I don't think so. How about you go in with me when I start up a bar here in the city? Think about it—free drinks after cases…"

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Gee, John, let me think about it. I may not be able to send my kids to college, but hey at least we'll have free drinks after cases."

Munch rolled his eyes. "College is overrated anyway. I'm telling you…with the economy the way it is. This is the perfect time to invest in some real estate."

"Yeah, whatever you say, John." Elliot ducked his head, flipping open the file on his desk. God he hated paperwork. He especially hated paperwork when Olivia wasn't here to keep him company. He tapped his pen on the desk and scanned the DD-5 in front of him. This was going to be one long day.

*************************************************************************************

The door swung shut behind him, and Fin raised his eyes cautiously to meet his superior officer. "Captain," he began cautiously.

Cragen stood up from his position at his desk and met Fin's quizzical gaze. When he finally spoke, his words were tense and even. "Is there something you want to tell me about the Crewes' case?"

Fin hesitated for a moment. "What about the Crewes' case," he finally hedged. "Case is closed. We got a confession."

"And what did it take to get one?" Cragen demanded. "You care to tell me how hard you pushed your partner to get that?"

Fin stopped dead in his tracks. He raised his gaze slowly. "What are you talking about, Captain? Nobody pushed Olivia to do anything she didn't want to do."

"You should have told me if the case was hitting too close to home for her. I don't need to hear about it after the fact," Cragen retorted, his eyes flashing.

"Sorry about that, Captain," Fin returned tersely, his body relaxing ever so slightly. "But Olivia will get over the case." He expelled a deep breath as he realized his captain didn't know anything about Pruitt. "Olivia has dealt with cases involving a rapist's baby before. It's tough on her, but she always bounces back," he added quietly.

"Not this time," Cragen announced, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice.

Fin paused. "What's that supposed to mean?" He searched his captain's face, and for the first time, he noticed the drawn out look in his eyes, the resignation in his posture. "Is Olivia okay?"

Cragen sighed. "No, Fin she's not. Olivia put in her transfer request this morning."

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_I'm the one you'll always remember…always remember…always remember._

Olivia awoke with a start. Her knees jerked forward to her chest, and her breath caught in her throat. As her eyes slowly adjusted to her surroundings, she realized that she was in bed. She drew out a shaky breath as she realized that Lowell Harris and Eric Lutz were gone. Oh, God. It had just been a dream. Olivia let her head fall back into the pillow momentarily, and then stopped. It was too soft. Why was her pillow so soft? She took a deep breath and then finally allowed her eyes to scan the unfamiliar room. Where the hell was she? As if sensing her sudden movement, Olivia felt the figure next to her roll over. "What are you doing awake, baby?"

Olivia froze and slowly turned her head toward the voice, the unfamiliar voice. The voice of… Alec, Alex, Adam…whatever the hell his name was, it started with an A. Olivia swallowed hard. God, her mouth was dry. Her mouth was dry, and her head was pounding. Her mouth was dry, her head was pounding, and she was in Mr. A's apartment. Where the hell was Mr. A's apartment at anyway? Olivia reached down to untangle herself from the arm draped over her midsection, and leaned over the edge of the bed. She fumbled around on the floor until finally she found her phone. "I uh…sorry, I just heard my phone beep. It looks like we caught a case. I've got to go."

Olivia waited for a response. Had she even told Mr. A she was a cop? She turned back toward him to gauge his reaction and realized that it didn't matter. He had passed out again. Her eyes burned with tears as she drew herself to her feet, throwing her clothes on as quickly as she possibly could. Olivia bit her lip and tried to figure out where the hell her shoes had ended up—and her purse. She needed her shoes, and she needed her purse, and she needed to get the hell out of here before Mr. A decided to regain consciousness. She threw back the pile of clothes at the end of the bed and was rewarded with one shoe. Great…she tossed back a pair of jeans…shoe number two. Now she was getting somewhere. Scanning the room quickly, Olivia decided to abandon the bedroom. She stumbled through the darkness into the living room and immediately spotted her coat and purse by the door. She crossed the room quickly, snatching the two up and without a sound slipped out the front door.

The sudden cold air as she stepped outside pulled her back to reality. Olivia hesitated, looking both directions as if somehow she might remember which direction she had come from. Olivia felt herself stumble over the last step and tried to catch herself. The tears she had been fighting earlier sprang back to her eyes. Great…it was the middle of the night and she was lost. No, wait—she was drunk and lost…and crying. Crying, drunk, and lost. A fabulous combination.

Vaguely, she could make out the sound of an approaching car—a dark sedan. Before she could even comprehend what was happening, the car had pulled off to the side of the road and a single figure got out, wrapping strong hands around her and pushing her into the passenger side before returning to the driver's seat.

"I've seen you do some stupid things before, Liv. But this is by far one of the worst."

Olivia threw her head back on the headrest and drew out a long, drawn-out breath before turning to glare at the figure next to her. "What the hell are you doin' here, Fin?"

"Watching your back…cause you sure as hell need it right about now. I'm not even going to ask what you were thinking."

"I don't have to 'xplain myself to you," Olivia shot back heatedly.

"You're right about that one. "

"And I don't work with you anymore," Olivia slurred.

"So I hear," Fin answered gruffly. "You might want to come up with a little better explanation for your partner though. Because as soon as he hears that you took off again, he's going to go through the roof."

Olivia remained silent, staring out the window. She felt a single tear slowly trace its way down her cheek. Damn Fin for making her cry again. She felt the car jerk over to the side of the road and vaguely realized that they were in front of her apartment building.

"Come on." Fin was already outside of the car and tugging on her arm. His voice was suddenly gentle. "Let's get you up to your apartment." He wrapped one arm around her waist to support her and Olivia felt him pushing her forward toward her apartment. Keys…she needed keys to get in her apartment. Olivia dug in her coat pocket in search of her keys. "Liv, I've already got them."

_Already got them. _

Olivia turned toward Fin in confusion and realized that her keys were dangling from his fingertips. "It's this one," she mumbled. Fin inserted the key in the lock and for the second time that night the door gave way. Olivia stepped into her apartment.

Fin followed her hesitantly. "Do you need help getting to the bedroom?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, but Fin…" Her voice was suddenly serious. "Don't... tell…Elliot."

Fin turned back toward her and didn't answer. "We'll talk about that tomorrow. But Liv…lock the door behind you."

Olivia nodded quietly and watched him walk back out the door, leaving her at least a shred of dignity intact. She turned the deadbolt in the lock behind her and stumbled toward the bathroom. She couldn't go to bed like this. She turned on the shower water and slowly and painstakingly stripped down. She just needed a shower, just needed to get clean. Wrapping her arms around her body, Olivia stepped into the running water and attempted to wash away ten months worth of filth, ten months worth of tears, ten months worth of a past she couldn't seem to erase.

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

"You said you needed to see me. Is everything all right?"

Fin turned toward the voice behind him slowly. "Sorry to bother you at home, Doc," he mumbled softly. "I could have stopped by…"

Huang returned his gaze steadily. His eyes swept across the empty bullpen, and a flash of confusion registered on his face. "No need to apologize. I'm the one who volunteered to come in. Is there a problem with a case?"

Fin hesitated. "Not exactly," he managed uneasily. He stumbled over the words, stumbled to find that balance between too much information and not enough. "I need your advice on the best way to help someone."

Huang nodded carefully. "Let me guess…this person doesn't want your help."

Fin raised his eyes slowly. "I guess you could say that. She thinks she's doing okay, but she's not. She's having problems dealing with something that happened to her—she's not eating, not sleeping, having flashbacks… and she's making a lot of self destructive decisions."

Huang slid down in Munch's desk chair. He studied Fin carefully from across the desk. "What kind of destructive decisions?" he asked gently.

Fin drew in a deep breath. "Heavy drinking, promiscuity, trying to run away from what's important to her, and…" He broke off as if unsure whether to continue or not. "And she's making some serious mistakes on the job," he admitted softly.

Huang remained silent for a long moment, letting the weight of Fin's words settle in. When he finally spoke, the trace of guilt in his words was unmistakable. "Is this somebody who was sexually assaulted?"

Fin studied the floor. "Hypothetically speaking, yeah."

Huang drew in a deep breath, steadying his voice before he spoke again. "Then it sounds like she's desperate to establish some control over her life again. A lot of women who are sexually assaulted turn to promiscuity to try to take back control over their sex life again. When she was assaulted, she lost her ability to consent so she's trying to find that now. She's trying to prove that she has control now, but she's not ready to deal with the intimacy so soon after her assault so she's self-medicating with alcohol. And she knows that what she's doing is wrong so it's easier for her to push everyone else away than to face their disapproval."

Fin crossed his arms in front of him. "So if she knows it's wrong, why doesn't she just stop?"

"Because as much as she knows it's wrong, she needs to convince herself that she's the one in control. She's trying to prove to herself that she's over what happened, and she's not ready to admit she's not. Until she takes control over her ability to consent, she feels as if he still has control over her. But she's not yet ready for that intimacy so every sexual encounter makes her feel even more out of control."

"So she just bounces around from one guy to the next trying to take back that control?"

Huang nodded affirmatively. "Yes, and when she realizes it's not working, she just runs away. It's the same thing on the job. She probably recognizes that she's making mistakes, and she's afraid of losing the one thing that's really important to her. By running away, she's able to control what happens on her own terms. She's convinced herself that her job is in danger so she wants to be the one to take that away before somebody else takes it away from her."

"Pre-emptive strike," Fin observed wryly. "So hypothetically speaking, how do I help her to realize she's not alone without betraying her confidence?"

"Hypothetically speaking…" Huang paused for a moment. "You realize that she may not be thinking clearly, and you give her the support that she needs to take back the control in a healthy way."

Fin stood up, deep in reflection and started to walk toward the door. "Thanks, George." Before he crossed the threshold into the hallway, he hesitated. "How the hell do I do that?"

"By realizing that you don't have to betray her confidence to help those who really care about her understand where she is right now and that she might need their help." Huang stood up, crossing the bullpen quickly. "And Fin…"

Fin hesitated before responding. Finally, he expelled the breath he had been holding and dared look back up. "Yeah?"

Huang studied his face carefully. "The other thing you can do is stop blaming yourself for what you had no control over," he added quietly. "You're a good partner, Fin, and what happened wasn't your fault. As soon as you realize that and stop trying to protect her, you'll help her more than you'll ever realize."

*************************************************************************************

"So Brian, how long have you been in New York?" Elliot rocked back in his chair and stared at the teenager across from him.

"About six months," he grunted back, his eyes darting back and forth between Munch and Elliot.

"Six months, huh," Munch added, passing a file over to Elliot. "So what made you leave Missouri?"

"I don't know. I guess I just needed a change. I thought I'd give the big city a try."

Elliot opened up the file in his hand and slid a photo across the table. "Are you sure it wasn't because you were looking for a new girlfriend?"

Munch moved closer, taking a look at the photo. "Natalie's a pretty girl," he observed. "How old did you say she was again?"

Brian paused. "Sixteen."

Elliot opened up the file, scanning it quickly. "And how old are you again?"

Brian hesitated again. "I'm twenty-two," he admitted.

"And she's sixteen years old," Elliot tossed back at him, slamming down the file on the table. "That's called statutory rape."

"Wait a minute. I never said we had sex," Brian protested quickly.

Munch rolled his eyes. "I know how it is," he added, taking another step closer and sitting down next to Brian. "You meet a pretty girl. You're dating her. It's only natural to want to take the next step forward. I mean it doesn't really matter what happened last time."

Brian turned toward Munch. "You have to understand. The charges last time were completely bogus. Elizabeth and I had been having sex for two years. All of a sudden, I turn twenty-one, and it's no longer legal. That's seriously messed up."

"So you move to New York, and you figure you'll start over," Elliot added. "Find a new girl. Nobody will care if you're sleeping with her too."

"Natalie and I never had sex," Brian insisted.

A rap at the window interrupted them. Elliot turned toward Munch. "We'll be right back." They both headed for the door. As soon as it closed shut behind them, Elliot turned toward Cragen. "Captain, we had him. If you'd just given us a couple of minutes…"'

"Neither one of them are going to admit to having sex," Cragen surmised dryly. "We've got more to worry about then two teenagers having consensual sex.

"Captain, he's preying on young, vulnerable women. This isn't his first time being pinched. Now last time they couldn't get the charges to stick, but this time, I know we can get him," Elliot argued.

"Elliot, I hate to say it, but he's right," Kim admitted, stepping closer. "The statute in Missouri is flawed. The age of consent is 14 as long as her partner is under 21. Elizabeth was 15 and 16 when they were having sex. It was perfectly legal until the day he turned 21. And she was one week away from being 17 when they arrested him. One more week, and it would have been perfectly legal again. You try explaining to two sexually-active teenagers that it's illegal for them to have sex between his 21st and her 17th birthday…it's just not worth it."

"So he just gets away with it," Elliot demanded.

Cragen eyed him carefully. "No, we leave him in the box to sweat it for a couple of hours. In the meantime, there's somebody else I want you to try to talk to."

*************************************************************************************

The light was bright and blinding. Olivia peeked out again. And God, did they hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut again and buried her face in her elbow. She must be getting a migraine. There was no way in hell a hangover could possibly hurt this much. As Olivia gradually became more aware of her surroundings, she groaned. She was going to be sore today—sore from last night and sore from yet another night spent sleeping on the bathroom floor. She was getting too old for this. She needed to go back to passing out on the couch when she got home. The couch hurt a helluva lot less the morning after. Or maybe she could go for the bed. Even better, she decided. Tomorrow morning when she came home, she was going to pass out on the bed.

The pain in her head heightened, and vaguely she became aware of the fact that the incessant ringing wasn't just coming from her head. Olivia fumbled for her phone, flipping it open and staring at the name displayed in front of her. It was too early for her to deal with this. She tossed the phone back on the floor and closed her eyes again. She took a deep breath when the ringing finally quieted and tried to remember what it was that Fin had said to her last night--something about we'll talk about that tomorrow. The realization hit her as suddenly as if she had a bucket of cold water dumped over her.

_Fin was going to tell Elliot._

Olivia hadn't answered her phone, and now Fin was going to tell Elliot. Shit. She scrambled to her feet, hitting her head on the towel rack. Olivia barely noticed. Frantically, she reached down and searched for her phone.

She had to call Fin. She had to stop him. Olivia had no idea why he hadn't said anything to anyone yet. She had been waiting—waiting ever since the Crewe's case for him to tell Cragen, tell Elliot, tell someone the truth about what she had done. But he hadn't. He had stayed true to his word, and the guilt had been eating her up alive. Because normally Fin would have called her on it, and he hadn't said a word. He had even let her go back into the interrogation room with Pruitt. Which could only mean one thing—Fin was blaming himself for not being there.

And that meant that she had screwed up again. If she hadn't let Harris take her down to the basement, Fin would never have worried about the fact that he hadn't gotten there in time. She had tried to tell him that he'd arrived before Harris managed to do anything. For a brief while, she'd even thought he'd convinced himself of the truth behind her words. Then she'd blown that all to hell the moment she had admitted to being in therapy, the moment she had held a gun to Pruitt's head. Only victims went to therapy. Only victims suffered from flashbacks. Olivia squeezed her eyes shut to block out the tears. Only victims needed to ask for help. And she wasn't a victim. And if it took everything she had, she was not about to let Harris turn her into one.

Olivia listened to the ringing on the other end of the line. She clutched the phone closer to her ear, waiting for someone to pick up, but there was no response on the other end. Dully, she stared back at the phone. She picked it up a second time, and listened as it rolled back over to voicemail. Tears sprang to her eyes as she listened to the familiar voice. Before she could work up the nerve to leave a message, she slammed the phone shut. She tossed her phone across the bathroom floor, feeling only a shred of satisfaction as it skated across the tile and slammed into the edge of the bathtub. Olivia drew her knees back up to her chest and rested her head on her hands. God, she needed the pounding in her head to go away. She needed the pounding in her head to go away so she could think clearly.

And then she heard the ringing. Tentatively, Olivia raised her head and reached for her phone. Her hands trembling, she looked at the name displayed on the screen and froze. It wasn't Elliot. It wasn't Fin. Hell, she'd even take a call from Cragen right about now. The tears she had been holding back rushed forward, blurring the image of a name that she had long since pushed away.

*************************************************************************************

"I already told you. My name is Regina Leawood. I just want to talk to Olivia."

Elliot slid a cup of coffee across the table and stared at the young woman in front of him as he tried to place the name. "I'm sorry, Regina, but Olivia is not here right now. I'm her partner, Detective Stabler. Maybe I can help you."

The young woman shook her head empathetically, tears filling her emerald eyes. She wrapped her hands around the mug, allowing the heat to warm them. "I have to talk to Olivia," she insisted stubbornly. Regina reached in her purse and handed Elliot a business card. "She told me if I ever needed her to come here. Please, Detective Stabler, you have to help me find her. I went to her old apartment, but the landlord said she moved out a couple of years ago. She won't answer her phone. I…I don't know how else to find her."

Elliot smoothed out the card in his hand, surprised to see that it was one of Olivia's business cards from when she first started in the unit. "Look Regina," Elliot began softly. "I'm not sure when Olivia will be back in to the office."

A single tear slowly traced its way down her cheek. "Detective Stabler, I think somebody is hurting my little sister. Please, you have to help me find her."

"Regina," Elliot began softly, "If your sister is in trouble, I can help you. But you have to tell me what happened."

Regina returned his gaze steadily. "I'm sorry, Detective. I know you just want to help. But I can't tell you anything."

Elliot stood up slowly. "Okay, I'm going to try to call Olivia again. I'll be right back." He crossed the room and headed out the door to where Cragen, Munch, and Fin stood waiting.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Elliot turned toward Cragen. "Sorry, Captain. I'm not getting anywhere with her. What have we got?"

"Regina Leawood, single, twenty-four years old," Fin rattled off quickly. He handed Elliot the printout in his hand. "She works for a veterinary clinic in Jersey."

"Okay, how about the sister?"

Munch turned toward Elliot. "Sister's name is Hannah Leawood. She's twenty years old and a student at Hudson University."

"And any idea how either one of them knows Olivia?"

Munch and Fin traded looks. Finally, Munch spoke up. "I can't find any record that Olivia has ever handled a case with either one of the girls, and there's no evidence of a personal connection. We ran her LUDS. She's been trying to call Olivia's cell phone all morning, but that's no surprise since she has her business card."

"She has Olivia's old business card," Elliot corrected him, handing it over to Cragen to inspect. "Olivia's desk phone number is wrong. We all got new cards when One PP updated the phone system and changed our extensions. That was about eight years ago. Regina would have been about sixteen at the time."

Cragen handed him back the card. "Which would have made Hannah about twelve. Has anyone tried to call Olivia yet?"

Fin shook his head. "Yeah, and she's not answering her phone." He hesitated. "Although I didn't really expect her to after last night," he added softly.

Elliot turned to Fin in confusion. "What happened last night?" Elliot watched Fin and Cragen exchange a look. He turned toward his captain. "What the hell is going on? When is Olivia coming back?"

"Elliot," Cragen began gently. "Olivia may not be coming back. She said she needed some time off." He took a deep breath. "She asked to be transferred to another unit."

The words hit him with a force that sent him reeling backward. _Olivia. Time off. Transfer._ Suddenly the air in the room seemed stifling. Elliot fought for a breath. Olivia didn't ask for time off, and she sure as hell wouldn't have asked for a transfer without telling him. Memories of a disconnected phone, an empty desk, and an abandoned apartment rushed forward.

Elliot drew his eyes up slowly. "Why didn't anyone tell me?" he demanded hoarsely. He searched their faces for some answer, any answer. His eyes settled on Cragen. "When?" he demanded.

"Yesterday," Cragen admitted softly.

_Yesterday._ God, how long had it taken her to move to Oregon? The feds had cleaned out her apartment within a day. Yesterday could mean that today was too late. Yesterday could mean that Olivia was long gone. Yesterday could mean that this time he had lost her forever.

Without another word, Elliot turned around, Regina long since forgotten, and he stumbled toward the door. He had no idea where to find her. He had no idea where he was going. But he wasn't about to let her leave without saying a word. Elliot swallowed hard, willing his body to move forward. He allowed each stride to take him further away from the truth. He slid into the sedan, slamming the door shut behind him with a force that didn't even come close to penetrating the hole that seemed to be widening in his heart. He was going to find her this time if he had to drive halfway across the country to do it. Because Olivia Benson was not just going to walk away from him again without a word. If she was leaving, he was going to damn well find out why.

*************************************************************************************


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

  
The door slammed shut behind him with a resounding thud. Elliot barely noticed. His eyes were fixated on the figure at the end of the bar. It had taken him nine hours…nine damn hours and seventeen minutes to find her. A mixture of emotions swept over him and before relief that she hadn't yet left town took over, he forced anger to the forefront. He'd be damned if he was going to let his relief that she was still here win out. She was going to know exactly how much her leaving had hurt him. She was going to know exactly how much he needed her. And damn it all to hell—he was going to make her regret leaving again without saying a word.

Elliot abruptly slid into the empty seat next to her. His eyes flew to hers, ready to tear into her with words full of hurt and accusation. But before the words could escape his lips, he froze. The expression on her face was one he had never seen before—it was hollow, empty. He swallowed hard. How long had that been there? How many times had he missed the fact that she needed him before she had finally given up and left? Every bit of the anger he'd felt upon walking in the door immediately turned inward, replaced by a guilt that shattered what was left of his already crumbling resolve.

He stared straight ahead. God how many nights had she sat here by herself? Or worse yet, with someone else, drinking herself into oblivion? He closed his eyes. He'd be damned if he was going to let her do that again. He shot her a cautious look, attempting to find his voice again. "You know I came here fully intending to buy you a drink, but I'm not so sure you need another one."

Olivia shot him a glare that could have frozen hell over. Tilting her head back, she threw back the rest of her drink, slamming the glass down on the bar. "I'm a big girl," she insisted, motioning to the bartender to bring her another one. "And just so we're clear, I'm not drunk yet."

Elliot winced. Okay, mental note—telling Olivia Benson she'd had enough to drink was a bad idea. He studied her carefully and decided to try another tactic. "I can see that."

A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her lips. "Good," Olivia whispered without looking up. She hesitated for a moment, weighing her next words carefully. She owed him an explanation. She really did. She wondered how long it took him to find her. Hell, she was surprised he was still here. How many times could she walk out without telling him before he finally left her too? "Look, Elliot. Let me explain."

Elliot turned toward her, hearing the resignation in her voice. "Liv, you don't need to explain anything to me." He forced his voice to remain steady. "I haven't exactly been honest with you. Kathy and I…we've been having problems again."

Olivia finally turned toward him. She nodded. "I figured as much," she admitted. He looked up at her surprised. "I went to see Kathy while you were undercover, remember?" she reminded him.

Elliot nodded weakly. Maybe she wasn't as far gone as he thought. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I should have told you," he grunted.

Olivia finally sought out his eyes. "I'm sorry, El," she admitted softly, her words sincere.

Elliot shook his head. "Things have been getting worse for awhile now, Liv. We decided to separate again, but this time…this time it's for real. We can't fix what's broken."

Olivia hesitated, wrapping her fingers around the fresh drink in front of her, afraid that if she were to let go, she may somehow lose the tenuous grip she had on her emotions. Her eyes burned with tears she refused to allow to come forward. _Can't fix what's broken. _She chewed on her lower lip nervously. God, what the hell was Elliot going to say about her if he thought his marriage was broken? She'd spent every evening of the last damn week curled up in a ball on her bathroom floor. She shifted slightly in her seat. "Elliot, why are you telling me this now?"

He picked up the tumbler the bartender had slid in front of him when he first sat down and took a long drink. Maybe Olivia had the right idea to begin with. He hadn't had nearly enough alcohol to be talking about this. When he finally had the strength to look back up at her, his eyes were full of pain. "Because you deserve to know why I haven't been there for you, Liv. And because when I heard you left again, I knew I couldn't lose the only person I have left."

"Elliot, that's not true," she interrupted quickly. "Your kids are still going to be there for you, whether or not you and Kathy are together or not." She let her eyes drop back down to her drink, eying it steadily as she tried to fight back the tears that wanted to escape.

They sat together in silence, each contemplating their next words carefully. Leave it to Olivia to comfort him when she was falling apart. Elliot closed his eyes. There must be some damn class he'd missed out on in the Academy—how to comfort your partner when you're falling apart yourself. Because he sure as hell hadn't known what to do. But somehow Olivia always did. No, wait, scratch that—there wasn't a class in the world that could teach the balancing act that Olivia had perfected over the years. Cragen had been right. He had no idea how the hell Olivia had put up with him all these years.

Elliot watched her shoulders begin to tremble, and suddenly sensing she was about to crumble, he finally broke the silence. "You know, I don't think we've gone out for drinks since the whole Kurt thing."

Olivia laughed softly. She finally dared to raise her head again. "Don't remind me, El. God, was I pathetic or what?"

Elliot grinned back at her. "Not exactly pathetic, Liv. But a reporter? What's up with that?"

She considered his words carefully before responding. God, the man was the furthest thing from subtle. But talking about Kurt was a helluva easier than talking about why she left. She took a deep breath, taking the bait. "You know I never used to like reporters," she started, her lips curving in a small smile. She raised an eyebrow at him, watching the amused expression on his face. "In fact, I swore I'd never date one again after some scumbag decided he wanted to role play our latest case."

Elliot raised his eyebrows, surprised. Vaguely he could recall her dating a reporter. He struggled to come up with a name. "Nick Ganzner. So that's why little Nicky disappeared so quickly a few years ago?"

"A few years ago?" Olivia crossed her arms in front of her, challenging him.

"Come on Liv. I know you're stubborn, but don't tell me you've been holding a grudge for nearly a decade," he reminded her with a laugh.

"It hasn't been a decade," Olivia protested quickly. "It was five years," she clarified.

Elliot paused for a moment, wracking his memory. "No, Nick was during the Sal Avelina case. That was eight years before Kurt," he challenged her.

"You're assuming Kurt was the one to change my mind about reporters," Olivia countered, arching her right eyebrow.

Elliot's eyes followed her carefully, watching as she allowed silence to envelope them again. If Kurt hadn't been the first reporter since Nick, how many other men had she dated without telling him? "So then who changed your mind?" he finally prompted her, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Jackson Zane," Olivia shot back, allowing a hint of a smile to come forward as she watched Elliot struggle to place the name. She took another sip of the drink in front of her. "Jackson Zane changed my mind about reporters."

Elliot paused for a moment, searching for a face to go with the name. He turned toward her. "You never dated Jackson Zane."

"No." Olivia's lips curved upward in a small smile. "The feds threw him in jail before I had a chance." She paused for a moment as if struggling to find the words to explain her sudden change of heart. "I went to see him the day Casey told me he was going to stay in jail until he gave up my name. He told me to go back home…said he wouldn't give up my name. He told me that I was just doing my job, and it was time for him to do his."

Elliot whistled softly. "That takes a helluva lot of guts."

"Yeah." Olivia took a long swig of her drink. "All he had to do was give up my name and he would have been off scot free, and I'd be the one sitting behind bars."

Olivia closed her eyes. She would have been the one sitting behind bars. Sitting behind bars in a place where a badge and gun did nothing to protect her, a place where inmate complaints became nothing more than tally marks to be reported to the Department of Justice as part of the Prison Rape Elimination Act, a place where late or not, there would be no Fin to stop Lowell Harris or Matthew Parker from doing whatever the hell they wanted to her.

Elliot searched her face. "You know, Jackson made a choice, Liv. You don't need to keep beating yourself up over it."

Olivia's head snapped up. "I'm not." Her words came out a little sharper than she intended them to. She bit her lip quickly.

Elliot nodded. "Yeah, Liv, you are. You're beating yourself up about Jackson Zane, and you're beating yourself up over…"

Olivia averted her eyes away from his. Damn Elliot and his concern. Damn Fin and his looking out for her. Damn all of them for trying to pretend that she wasn't okay. She was fine. She had dealt with Lowell Harris, and she was moving on with her life.

"Elliot, I'm fine," Olivia interrupted him quickly. She turned to face him, lifting her chin stubbornly.

"Sure you are," he grunted. He tilted his head back, allowing the burning liquid to ease the knot in his throat before he dared speak again. "But Liv, there's nothing wrong with admitting you're not."

Elliot watched her response carefully. He watched her turn toward him hesitantly. "El, I just wanted to protect them."

It wasn't the words. They were nothing he hadn't heard before. But something was different. She was different. Her voice was different. Her eyes were different. It was something in the way her voice broke, tilted, distorted the words that spilled forth that caught his attention. And it was the empty, hollow look in her eyes that frightened him. Her eyes had always served as his safety net, a window into her soul that spoke to him in a way that no manmade vowels or consonants ever could. Her eyes drew him in, reflecting the furthest depths of his soul without apology, without pretense. But all of a sudden, he had lost his ability to see within them. He had lost his ability to see her, and that scared the hell out of him.

Elliot searched her face for something, anything that might be familiar. He needed to understand her, needed to understand what had changed. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "Is that why you left?"

Olivia turned toward him, surprised at the directness of his question. She sighed. "What are you talking about, Elliot?"

"Olivia," Elliot turned toward her, his face suddenly serious. "You can't save everyone. Walking away is not going to change that."

Olivia's eyes burned with a fresh sheen of tears. "I didn't expect it to."

Elliot nodded. "Olivia, I'm sorry. I should have realized that…" He cleared his throat, letting the reality of her words sink in. "You've been doing this a long time, Olivia. Most people don't make it more than a couple of years," he managed dully. "These cases, they change you one piece at a time. I know you told me once that you couldn't walk away from it, but things change. People change."

Olivia stared back at him through a watery veil of tears as memories of words he had long since uttered swept over her again, words whose meaning had once been swept away in the evening wind, pushed to the furthest corner of her sub consciousness, where she could pretend that somehow they could cease to exist. Words that had once reminded her how closely her past tied her to every victim she encountered…words whose past now had become hopelessly tangled with present and future.

_Olivia, no one is making you do this. The difference between you and the victim is that you can walk away. _

"Olivia," Elliot probed gently.

Olivia froze. _The difference between you and the victim…_ the words rang through her head now, an endless cycle that taunted her, screaming out a truth she wasn't ready to confront. It was a line she had treaded cautiously her entire career. It was a line she had once thought she could never cross. And now, it was a line blurred beyond recognition.

Her mind screamed words of protest, words of denial, but it wasn't until she heard the trembling in her own voice that Olivia realized she had spoken them out loud. "I'm not a victim."

_I'm not a victim. _

He stared back at the horror in her eyes as recognition settled deep within him. Elliot had long since learned to stop listening to the words Olivia actually said. He had learned that the only way to ever understand her was to listen to the words that she didn't say. Because Olivia Benson had perfected the art of communicating through words of denial. Olivia Benson had perfected the art of hiding behind a cocoon of pretense that somehow shielded her from reliving both a shattered past he'd never fully understood and every emotion that came from her ability to step into the shoes of every rape victim they'd ever encountered. And the moment that Elliot had realized that was the moment he had finally understood the strength that somehow held both of them up.

_I'm not a victim. _

Elliot fought for a breath against the crushing weight of her words. _Olivia. Victim. Sealview. _And suddenly he understood. He understood the absolute terror in her eyes because it was familiar. He had seen it every day of his life for more than a decade. And suddenly, he had no idea how he had missed it. How he had missed seeing it build within her, how he had missed it tear her apart piece by piece until only a fraction of her former self remained. How he had missed being there to protect her, to comfort her, to catch her before she fell. Elliot felt completely helpless for the first time in his life as he watched her stumble backward in shock, watched her do the one thing that somehow managed to rip apart the last thing still holding him together.

She ran away.

Olivia couldn't remember at what point her body's instinct took over, but suddenly she felt her legs beneath her, frantically pushing her forward with a fervor born out of the most primal need to escape. She wasn't sure at what point the tears blurred the image that she was sure could never be erased from her memory. And she wasn't sure at what point she could ever turn back…ever escape the utter need to feel safe again. Safe from the Lowell Harris, safe from reality, safe from the truth she had seen reflected in Elliot's eyes…a truth that no matter how far away she ran, she would never be able to escape again.

*************************************************************************************


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

"Detective Elliot Stabler, badge number 6313. I'm here to see Lowell Harris."

Elliot dropped his gaze to the floor momentarily before returning it to the woman seated in front of him. Her eyes scanned over the log sheet in front of her, and she hesitated. "Sorry, sir. I'm afraid I can't let you in there."

Elliot froze. "Why the hell not?"

She snatched up a hastily scribbled note and shoved it in front of him. Sorry, I just do as I'm told. A Detective Benson called and said not to let you in to see Harris." She shrugged. "Sorry pal. Better luck next time."

Elliot stepped away from the desk, instinctively reaching for his phone. He snapped it open, his fingers furiously flying across the keys.

_You trying to protect him now?_

No sooner had he put his phone back in its holster when he felt it vibrating against his hip in response.

_1 new text message. _

He flipped his phone open and stared at the blinking text.

_From Liv. _

He furrowed his brow, selecting the message.

_I'm protecting you not him. Go home el. _

He stared back at her words, feeling every bit of the rage within him boiling over the top. Rage he normally would throw right back at her, but for once he didn't dare. Seeing her, talking to her, he'd somehow managed to convince himself that maybe all wasn't really lost. For a brief while, she had let him get close again, had allowed him to see her before she pushed him away again. He knew he was treading on thin ice, knew that every step forward was part of a tenuous balancing act. But as long as he treaded lightly, as long as he didn't upset that precarious balance, he at least stood a chance. Somehow, things didn't have to change just because she had.

He closed his eyes. Olivia had changed. Harris had changed her. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew he no longer could. There was a quiet desperation he hadn't been able to fully identify until today. It was a mixture of utter recklessness and complete despair coupled with an intense need to push herself further and further with every case. And he had overlooked it. He had let her continue to push herself because in doing so he could focus on his own problems at home, and she could shoulder the responsibility of finding justice for the victims. Somehow she could manage to bear the weight for both of them, and when she failed, he would still be surrounded by oblivion while her world came crashing down around her. Damn it. He was a complete ass.

Suddenly he realized how much he missed ignorance; it was far better than reality because all of a sudden, Elliot had no idea how he had let things get the way that they had. He had no idea at what point he had let her take over the pain and heartache for both of them. And she had let him, had never said a word. She had barely acknowledged the success behind every case they closed because she was so busy bearing the brunt of every failure. And through it all, he had stayed frozen in place while somehow she took each and every step forward for both of them—tiny steps that became part of an endless staircase through the darkest depths of humanity because only those on the outside could ever possibly construe each guilty verdict as a success. With every case, he had maintained a safe distance while she forced herself to take another step closer to the realization that the next victim's story would somehow tear apart the fragile hold she had over her emotions.

And she had done all of it without a word to him that he had stopped pulling his weight. She had done it all while simultaneously giving up every last piece of herself for him—in an effort to save his marriage, to save his children, to save his job, and to shield him from a truth that she knew would do nothing but bring him further pain. And he had stood by and let her. He had stood by, completely oblivious to her suffering because it was easier than admitting that he didn't know how to take on all of it himself.

Sorrow and grief blended with rage in an inextricable battle to come out on top. Elliot desperately needed to hold onto that rage because without it, he realized how weak he was without her. And damn her for being so strong. Damn her for trying to protect him. He didn't need her protection. He needed a release. He needed a punching bag. He gritted his teeth, feeling the bitter cold wind on his cheeks. He needed to make somebody pay for tearing her away from him. And damn it if he was going to let her stop him from achieving that.

Elliot slammed the door of the sedan behind him, wishing that the force behind it would somehow do something toward calming the burning ache in his chest. He stared straight ahead, barely conscious of the sound of the ignition as it turned over, barely conscious of the sounds of the city all around him as he drove. Elliot forced himself to focus straight ahead toward something, anything that might somehow dull the throbbing pulses of a fury that surpassed all sense of reason. He needed something, anything to propel him forward because if he allowed himself to stop, if he allowed himself to think about the truth behind her words, he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to get back up again.

*************************************************************************************

_Regina Leawood._

Cragen stared at the printout in front of him hoping that somehow each letter in her name would somehow mold itself into the recognizable. He scanned the information again, looking for some connection, any connection that may somehow tie her to Olivia. He sighed, rocking back in his chair and closing his eyes. There was no way she was tied to any of their cases. Even Huang had come up empty in the FBI database which could mean only one thing—the connection had to be personal. He chewed on his lower lip. Except the problem with that is Olivia Benson didn't do personal.

Olivia Benson lived for her job. He'd watched her closely over the years, had watched her push away anyone and everyone who tried to get too close. He had watched the way each case tore open fresh wounds from her past, and stood by silently as she let it shield her from the possibility of new ones. Because as long as she didn't open herself up to someone else, nobody else could hurt her. It was a twisted logic that somehow he understood without question. Because ever since she first walked in the unit, he saw himself reflected in her eyes, saw his fear at opening himself up to the possibility that a world already filled with such horror and depravity could ever give him someone to love again.

It was easier this way. There was no phone call to tear you away from the known, no loss that could ever tear through the heart that stayed closed. Loneliness was a small price to pay. He could handle loneliness; it was the loss he wasn't sure he could live with again. So instead he'd filled every evening with one case after another and watched as she'd found her own rhythm doing the same. And on the occasional evening when she began to question the lifestyle that neither one of them knew how to escape, he would offer up a bottle of vodka in its place. It was easier this way—easier with no life, no friends, no family.

Cragen hesitated for a moment. He pulled out a key from his desk and stood up quietly. Crossing his office to the file cabinet, he inserted the key and pulled out the top drawer. He let it slide open as he thumbed through mountains of paperwork that looked like it hadn't been touched in years. And finally he found it. He pulled out a single file, pushing the drawer closed behind him. He flipped it open as he crossed his office back toward his desk and skimmed the content quickly.

_  
Transfer Request:  
Date: 04/19/1998_

_Name: Olivia Benson_

_Sex: Female_

_SSN#: 081-61-4313_

_Address:  
203 W. 69th St.  
Apt 2F  
New York, NY 10024_

_Phone #: 212-558-7803_

_Marital Status: W  
_

Cragen rubbed his eyes and turned back to the page in question. He stared back down at the words in front of him with a mixture of bewilderment and surprise. But they hadn't changed. _Marital status—W. _

Not S.

_Just W._

And just like that, all of a sudden, he realized he didn't know the first thing about her. Because she had never once said a word—never once had she ever confided in him that they shared the same past. Never once had she confided in her partner that she might actually understand what being a part of a family was all about—a family. A real family, not one that was created out of the pure need for companionship and understanding at the end of the day. But a family that lived a life outside of this unit, a family untouched by the very things that turned their world upside down on a daily basis. And suddenly there was no doubt in his mind—a family that somehow consisted of Regina and Hannah Leawood.

*************************************************************************************

"I told you I'd get a confession out of him."

Munch rolled his eyes. "My way was far superior if you had just given it a chance."

"Your way wasn't working," Fin shot back quickly. He perched on the edge of Olivia's desk before turning back toward his partner. "I didn't have all day."

"All day?" Munch countered, peering over his glasses. "It took you ten hours." He nodded in the direction of Cragen's office, "and as daddy dearest once said, overcoming resistance through compassion is the number one interrogation method."

"Yeah, well I overcame resistance another way," Fin grunted. He crossed his arms over his chest. "And it worked just fine for me."

Munch dumped a scoop full of coffee in the coffee pot before turning back around to face Fin. "You, my dear friend, overcame resistance through intimidation. That's not the same thing."

"He was a scared twenty-two year old kid. A little intimidation is all he needed." As he spoke, Fin squinted his eyes warily as he watched Munch prepare the coffee. "Whoa, hold up. You are not making another pot of coffee, are you?"

"Yes, I am making another pot of coffee," Munch retorted dryly. "I figured you might need some while you're typing up our report."

"While I'm typing up _our_ report?" Fin raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, you can finish up the paperwork on the Natalie Moss case while I get some background information on Regina Leawood." Munch narrowed his eyes at the water in the coffee pot in front of him and tried to remember how much coffee he'd actually used. He nodded toward Elliot as he saw him step through the doorway before turning back to the coffee pot. "And hopefully Elliot was able to get ahold of Olivia," he tossed back over his shoulder.

"Figures," Fin grumbled back, pulling himself up to his feet and starting toward his desk. Before he could say another word, Fin felt himself stumbling backward from the force of a blow. His head snapped back up in surprise.

"You son of a bitch," Elliot seethed, moving a step closer again, his hands still clenched tightly in a fist.

Munch whirled around at the sound of the first blow and snapped to attention. "Elliot? Elliot, what the hell are you doing?"

"You were supposed to protect her!" Elliot spat out, his voice hoarse with emotion. He slammed Fin into the wall of lockers before turning back to confront him.

Fin stared back at Elliot, the fight draining from his body the moment his words sank in. His shoulders slumped forward. "Elliot, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry!" Elliot grabbed Fin around the collar before throwing him back again. "Why the hell didn't you tell me what happened?" he demanded, his voice breaking.

"Detective, get your hands off of him?"

Elliot froze at the sound of Cragen's voice. He forced himself to take a deep breath before he took a tentative step backward.

Cragen shot Elliot a murderous glare. "Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on here?" His eyes darted back and forth between his two detectives.

Fin wiped at the trail of blood slowly trickling down his face and winced. "It's nothing, Captain," he responded quietly.

"Like hell it is. Stabler, Fin…my office now!"

*************************************************************************************

"Olivia, are you okay?"

Olivia hesitated in the doorway. "Margo, I'm sorry." She took a deep breath. "I didn't even think about how late it was when I called you. You should have just told me to wait until morning."

Margo let out a small chuckle. "That's all right. I think I owe you one." She nudged a cup of coffee toward the empty chair next to her desk.

"Thank you." Olivia accepted the mug gratefully, allowing the heat to seep through and warm the chill from her body. She looked around, her eyes scanning the office. "You asked me what decision," she ventured cautiously. She took a deep breath. "I asked my captain for a transfer."

Olivia blew out the rest of the breath she had been holding and waited for the response. Margo took in her words carefully. "Why do you think you decided to do that, Olivia?"

"Because all I do is let everyone down," Olivia confessed softly.

Margo raised an eyebrow. "Really," she countered with a small smile. "That's not the impression I got when I asked you for help. In fact, I thought you were pretty damn good at your job."

Olivia let her eyes drop to the floor. "Margo, a few months ago I sent a rape victim's son home with her own rapist. I stripped Rochelle Rodriguez of every sense of safety she had left just to uphold the law. I sent a battered wife home to her violent husband and watched him murder her right in front of me. And last week, I forced three women to relive the worst thing that's ever happened to them just to close a case." She paused, her words suddenly bitter. "And then, I didn't even tell them when the case got thrown out of court. So Margo, don't tell me that I'm good at my job."

"Olivia, you're so convinced that you're the one to blame. Did it ever occur to you that these women were hurting before you came into their lives, that their rapist or their abuser is the one to blame, not you? Did it ever occur to you that one of these days those women may be able to get over what happened to them because they had that opportunity to confront their rapist for what he is."

Olivia avoided eye contact. She chewed on the inside corner of her right lip. "It's not just them, Margo. My partner's mentor murdered a woman, and I didn't see it. I was getting ready to go out on a god damn date with him while Elliot was out finding evidence to convict the man he'd looked up to his entire life. And then a couple of weeks later, he trusted me to watch his back while he went undercover, and I almost got him killed."

"Olivia," "Margo began softly. "Tell me what happened when your partner went undercover."

Olivia hesitated for a moment as if unsure where to begin. She drew in a deep breath. "Elliot was staying at one of the apartments the NYPD uses for undercover operations when we lost contact with him. I was worried when he stopped answering his phone so I stopped by to check on him." Olivia stopped. She closed her eyes, remembering what it felt like to see him lying there on the pavement, to feel his blood seeping through her fingertips as she held him. Her eyes snapped open again as if to ease the image permanently embedded in her memory. "An hour later they put two bullets in his chest," she whispered.

Margo studied her carefully. "Olivia, do you think that what happened to you when you were undercover was Elliot's fault?" she asked her gently.

Olivia's head snapped up. "Of course not."

"Was it Fin's?"

Olivia sighed. "No," she replied simply.

"Then Olivia, why do you think that what happened to Elliot while he was undercover is any different from what happened to you?"

Olivia blinked as she allowed the words to settle over her. Of course it was different. It had to be, didn't it? What happened at Sealview had been her fault. She was the one who had demanded Cragen put her in there. If she hadn't insisted on going in there, if she hadn't let Harris take her down to the basement, none of it would have ever happened. But Elliot had also demanded Cragen let him go undercover, had also followed Bushido to where he had been shot. And if Sealview hadn't been Elliot's fault, then… Olivia hesitated. If she blamed herself for what happened at Sealview, she was blaming Elliot for Bushido shooting him. And that was beyond irrational. That was absurd.

"Olivia, you're so busy blaming yourself for everything that's happened, you don't see the good that you do," Margo insisted. "When I asked you for help finding Jessie, you didn't let me down. In fact, if I recall correctly, you not only found Jessie, but you also helped convict the couple who killed her. And I'm sure if you look hard enough, you'll find the same thing in every other case you've worked."

Olivia returned Margo's steady gaze before she finally found her voice again. "Yes, Margo I found Jessie. I found her, and then I almost shot a man who I was convinced was guilty of raping and murdering her," she confessed softly.

Margo's eyes widened in surprise. "What are you talking about?" she asked carefully.

"I mean I held a gun to a man's head and cocked the trigger, Margo. I mean I had a damn flashback on the job and nearly lost it. And if somebody else hadn't been there…" Her voice trembled. "Margo, I don't know what I would have done."

"Olivia," Margo broke in softly. "You know that I'm a mandatory reporter if…"

"Yeah, I know." Olivia took a long sip from the mug clutched tightly in her hand. She allowed her eyes to flutter shut. "That's why I didn't tell you until I was off the job." Her eyes opened again, and she turned to Margo as if pleading for her to understand. "And that's why I need your help now."

Margo studied her carefully, watched the slight tremble in her hands as she picked up the mug for another sip. She watched her fight back against the tears that spilled forth. "Olivia, what's changed? Why do you want my help now?"

Margo watched the panic set in, watched Olivia's eyes as they shifted ever so slightly in an effort to avoid the question. And then as she watched, she saw her start to crumble. She watched the first sign of tears slip and slowly take hold.

"Because Margo I didn't think about what my leaving might do to him. I didn't think about the fact that he still couldn't understand why I had to leave. And somehow I let it slip." Olivia drew her face up slowly. "Margo, Elliot isn't going to know how to deal with what happened. He doesn't process his emotions—he just acts. I have to be the one to stop him from doing something that he's going to regret. I have to figure out how to be strong enough to help him deal with it. Otherwise, I might lose him too."

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	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

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"I think it's time somebody tells me what's going on here," Cragen stated calmly, crossing his arms in front of him and resting them lightly on the top of his desk. He let his gaze wander back and forth between the two detectives in his office.

Fin clamped his mouth shut and turned away. "Nothing," he finally muttered.

Elliot whipped around to glare at him. "You're good at saying nothing, aren't you," he sneered.

Fin winced as the words hit him, twisting every bit of guilt within him into an ever growing knot. He shifted uncomfortably, the expression on his face guarded as he observed Cragen's reaction to the words. "This isn't about you, Elliot," he returned quietly.

"I had a right to know. I had a right to the truth." The expression on Elliot's face changed from absolute fury to pure desperation as he took a step closer. "You were supposed to look out for her. God damn it, Fin. You were supposed to protect her!"

It wasn't until Elliot saw the look on Fin's face that he realized what he had just said. He stepped back, his eyes suddenly darting over to Cragen. His heart sank at the sudden look of recognition on his captain's face.

"Sealview."

"Captain, I…" Fin broke in nervously.

Cragen drew himself up to his feet slowly. He crossed his office until he was eye to eye with Fin. "When exactly were you planning on telling me what happened in that basement, Detective?" he demanded, his words a mixture of authority and hurt.

"Captain, I didn't know how bad it was until…"

"Until the Crewe's case," Cragen broke in slowly. The pieces began to fall into place. He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in his breath as he fought for clarity. He needed to know what happened, needed to know how bad it really was. His eyes searched Fin's for the truth. "How long was she alone with him?"

"I don't know, Captain." Cragen watched him carefully. Resignation blended with guilt as Fin finally allowed the weight of his words to settle, allowed the weight within them to crush all of them. He drew in a shaky breath. "Long enough to send her to a rape crisis counselor for help." He closed his eyes. "She said nothing happened, and I wanted to believe her so I did."

Elliot's voice cut through the silence that followed. Each word was punctuated with a guilt that resonated deep within all of them. "It wasn't just you, Fin," he admitted quietly. "We all did."

*************************************************************************************

"Merci beaucoup. Thank you very much, ladies. I'll see you tomorrow." Soft applause rang out through the room and was followed by quiet conversation as the door suddenly swung open in front of him.

Munch paused, his eyes scanning over the group of dancers who came through it. "Excuse me." He pulled one of the girls aside. "Can you tell me where I can find Hannah Leawood?"

The girl stared back at him in surprise and scowled. "Hannah's still in there," she noted, rolling her eyes. "She always stretches with Pasha after class."

As she turned to leave, Munch frowned. He pushed open the door and stepped inside the studio. And he stilled as he took in the image before him. There were only two people left in the room. Pasha had one arm wrapped around a young girl's waist with one hand planted firmly on her thigh, and her body twisted in some absurd position that he decided was nowhere near natural.

"Push harder…" The commanding voice that barked out was thick with a Russian accent.

"I think that's hard enough," Munch observed with a frown. "Hannah Leawood?"

Pasha's eyes whipped over to him. "Hannah's busy," he retorted, pushing her leg a little further. He turned his attention back to Hannah. "Give me more," he demanded. After a moment, Munch watched him finally release his hold on her.

Hannah pulled herself together, tugging a small knit sweater over her bare shoulders. She turned hesitantly toward Pasha. He nodded at her.

"I'm Hannah. Who are you?"

Munch pulled out his shield. "My name is Detective John Munch, and I'd like to ask you a couple of questions."

Hannah's eyes flew to the floor before she finally dared to look up. "About what?" she asked softly. She reached for the bag at her feet, tugging a pair of loose fitting pants over her leotard and tights.

Munch hesitated. "It might be best if we go somewhere a little more private," he suggested quietly.

"Hannah doesn't hide anything from me," Pasha interrupted. He put an arm around her shoulders protectively. "I take care of all of my girls."

"I'm sure she appreciates that," Munch responded slowly. "But we still need to ask her a few questions."

Pasha glared back at Munch. "May I ask what this is regarding?"

Munch didn't bother to answer him. He turned back toward Hannah. His voice was gentle when he spoke. "Do you know a woman by the name of Olivia Benson?"

Hannah's head shot up in surprise. "Of course I know Olivia."

"Then I'd really appreciate it if you could come back to the station with me and answer a few questions."

Hannah nodded quickly as she slipped her shoes back on. "It's all right, Pasha." She gave him a quick hug before grabbing her bag and turning back toward Munch. "Of course, anything I can do to help Olivia. Is she all right?"

Munch paused briefly before he finally responded. His voice was quiet. "Olivia's going to be just fine."

*************************************************************************************

"This isn't exactly your usual scene." Elliot slid onto the bench next to Olivia and waited for a response.

Silence.

He glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye. The slightest movement, the self-conscious way that she drew her lower lip in, was the only indication that she had actually heard him. Elliot stared straight ahead, quietly observing the women in front of him somehow contort their bodies into something that vaguely resembled a pretzel.

Olivia sighed. "I didn't come here to socialize, El."

Elliot stared back at her and merely nodded. He studied her face carefully. "So you didn't come here to do yoga," he noted, nodding to the women gathered in front of her. "You didn't come here to socialize." He turned to look at her, the expression on his face quizzical. "So why are you here, Olivia?"

Olivia picked up the smoothie in front of her and nudged it toward him. Her eyes scanned the women in front of them before she finally returned his steady gaze. Her voice softened. "There are twelve women in this room, Elliot. I came in here because there are twelve women in this room."

Elliot stared back at her in confusion. He looked around, wondering if somehow he'd missed something. "Yeah," he began slowly. "Liv, if that's supposed to mean something, I'm afraid you've lost me."

Olivia picked up her discarded drink, taking a long sip out of the straw before she nudged it back toward him again. "One out of four women is sexually assaulted sometime in their lifetime, Elliot. One in six is a victim of an attempted or a completed rape. That means that three of us will be sexually assaulted and two will survive being raped." Olivia paused, averting her eyes away from his. "I guess I just needed to see where I fit in."

Elliot froze and put down the drink in his hand. When he finally found his voice, he turned toward her, his words suddenly serious. "Liv, which one are you?"

Olivia was quiet for a long moment. Finally she looked up at him. "Elliot, he didn't have a chance to try to rape me." She lifted her chin ever so slightly and returned her gaze back to the women around her without missing a beat. "I don't meet a lot of women outside of the job—Melinda, Alex, Casey, and I…that's four. " She closed her eyes. "Kim makes five, El, and I don't want to know who number six is."

*************************************************************************************

"Hannah," Munch began softly. "I brought you here because your sister thinks that somebody might be hurting you. And if you want to tell me anything, we're here to help you."

Hannah turned toward him for a moment as if trying to decide what to say. Finally she took a deep breath. "It's called a pencheé."

Fin turned toward her in confusion. "What's a pencheé?"

Hannah stared back at the ground. "The stretch I was doing with Pasha—it's called a pencheé arabesque." She turned back away from the two detectives and stared out the window in front of her.

Munch nodded slowly. "Pencheé—from the French derivative penchant. It means 'to incline'."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly. "Detective, I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong. Pasha would never hurt me. My sister doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Pasha had his hands all over you. How do you explain that?" Fin protested.

"He was stretching me. He had one arm around my waist to hold my back up while he used his heel to keep my foot from sliding out away from him."

Munch watched her reaction carefully. "And his hand on your thigh?"

"He has to give me resistance while I stretch. If he puts his hand below the knee, my leg bends, and I lose my form. Trust me; he does it to all of us. There's nothing sexual about it."

Munch slid into a seat across from her. "Hannah, nobody said anything about the way he touches you," he observed gently. "You're the one who brought that up."

She froze, and turned away, crossing her arms across her chest stubbornly. She pursed her lips, drawing her lower lip in and biting down on it hard.

"Sounds like a guilty conscious talking to me," Fin prodded.

She turned back to them with a glare. "I told you I was fine." She stood up and crossed the room to the window, staring outside at the street below. "Why won't you believe me?"

"Because if you were fine, you wouldn't be this upset," Munch observed.

She turned back toward them slowly. "I'm done talking to you, to both of you. Where's Olivia?" She picked up on their hesitation and whirled around. She took two long strides toward Munch accusingly. "You told me that this was about Olivia. Where the hell is she?"

Fin and Munch traded glances. "Hannah, she's…"

"Oh, this is great." Hannah laughed bitterly. "She's not even here, is she?" she demanded quietly. She slid back down into the chair, her lower lip trembling slightly. "I should have known. She never is." She raised her chin, her eyes flashing. "I told you I was fine. So unless Olivia has something to say to me, then I think it's time for me to go home."

*************************************************************************************

"John, what are you doing here?" Olivia hesitated at the doorway for only a moment before she nudged it open gently. Her eyes dropped down to the floor as she watched him step through the doorway. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the expression on his face change from surprise to shock as he took in the state of her apartment.

"Sorry," she mumbled softly. "Things have been a little crazy, and I haven't had much of a chance to clean up." She brushed aside a stack of unread mail and gestured for him to sit down. "Let me guess…" She took a deep breath. "Elliot told you."

"No," Munch argued softly. "He didn't have to say anything."

Olivia nodded in understanding. "Your partner still alive?" she ventured carefully.

Munch laughed lightly. "He's pretty tough."

Olivia's lips turned up slightly. "Good." She exhaled quickly. "John, look, I'm not sure how many people know, but…"

"Olivia, my lips are sealed," Munch promised her. He watched the expression on her face carefully. "You know we all have your back, Olivia," he added softly. He sighed. "But I actually came here for another reason."

Olivia turned away slightly. "I can't go back," she whispered.

"I'm not asking you to make a decision right now, Olivia. But there's someone who really needs your help."

Olivia forced a smile. "There's always someone who needs our help, John. That's the problem. Each one of them takes a little bit more out of you, and when you're not whole to begin with, you lose that ability to give. I…I can't do it right now."

Munch nodded. "It's never easy, Olivia. But this one's special. She needs you, and you're the only one she's going to talk to." He stood up, crossing the room toward the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, waiting for her response.

As soon as he turned away from her, Olivia hesitated. "John, what do you mean this one is different? Who is she?"

He turned slowly to face her. "Olivia, she's your niece."

*************************************************************************************


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

*************************************************************************************

_Olivia, she's your niece. _

Olivia froze as the implication behind his words sank in slowly. She closed her eyes. She wasn't sure which was worse—the knowledge that her niece was somehow connected to a case, or the terrifying reality that every secret she had fought to bury for the last twenty-four years had now been completely exposed for all to see. And she was left vulnerable…completely and utterly powerless to stop any of it from happening.

_Again._

"It's Hannah, isn't it?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Munch nodded silently in return.

"John, who else knows?"

Olivia didn't even recognize the raspy, choked up voice that came out. Apparently neither did Munch. He turned toward her, a mixture of regret and pain clouding his features. She searched his eyes, desperately seeking some sense of security, of salvation, anything that she could use to pull herself back up again. "Olivia, you can't hide this from him now. He's going to find out."

"Who else?" God, Olivia fought to steady her voice, but she knew it was useless. All efforts to control her emotions had been shot to hell the moment she had opened up her mouth. She had tried to hide it, but it was no use. She didn't care who knew. Not anymore. She didn't care if the entire world found out—the entire world minus one very important person.

She chewed on her lip. The one person who they both knew her words were meant to protect. The one person she knew could never find out. Because if he did, he would never look at her the same way again. He would never be able to look at his family the same way again.

"John, you can't tell him!"

Munch stepped toward her. "I'm not going to tell him anything, Olivia."

For a brief moment, she felt her body relax before the reality of his words sank in. She backed away again. "Oh, no, I'm not."

"Olivia, you have to tell him."

"No, John. I don't. I can't. I won't." She stumbled for words, for anything that may somehow come close to rationalizing what she realized he could never understand. What none of them could ever understand. The image in front of her began to blur, and she tried desperately to fight back the impending tears. How could she ever explain it to him? Especially now, after all that had happened last year. How could he ever understand the truth? How could he possibly understand that he had trusted her, and she'd almost let it happen all over again?

"Olivia, I don't know what happened. And if you're not ready to talk about it, that's fine. I won't pry. But that girl needs you right now. She needs you to be there for her. You can't let her down again."

Olivia felt the sting of his words hit her hard.

_You can't let her down again._

Oh, God. Olivia _had_ failed miserably. She had let Hannah down. She had let Regina down. She had let all of them down. She had left them, had let their relationship mold itself into nothing more than a painful reminder of what it could have been. Because somehow it had felt safer that way—as if holding it at a distance could somehow make up for everything she had lost. As if pushing them away could somehow make her forget everything she thought she once had, but realized was never what it should have been. Could have been. Would have been.

_Had it not been for her. _

She had destroyed that for all of them. A family was supposed to be simple, natural, instinctive. A family loved unconditionally, trusted without question. A family didn't hurt one another. But Olivia hadn't known how to do any of that. She hadn't known what being a part of something more was all about. Olivia hadn't known what to do with everything they had given her. And in return, she had lost all of it long before she ever had the chance to figure it out. Somehow, she had to make things right again. She had to help Hannah.

"Where is she?" Olivia lifted her chin with a false bravado that she only hoped could fool someone, anyone. Because she sure as hell wasn't fooling herself. She was falling—little by little into a cocoon that held her tightly within the depths of a pain and solitude that somehow represented stability and the known. A cocoon that was only big enough for one. Because if she let anyone else in, she wasn't quite sure what would come out.

"She's waiting for you back at the House."

*************************************************************************************

"Can I go home now?"

"As soon as you answer a few more questions." Fin glanced toward the two way mirror across from him as if somehow the pane of glass may somehow offer some insight into when Munch would be able to track down Olivia.

"We've been here for hours," Hannah added. She wrapped her arms around her chest tightly. "Besides it's freezing in here."

Fin shook his head, turning toward the box on the wall. He flipped the cover up, rotating the dial to turn up the heat. "You're right, it has been a long time," he conceded slowly. "How 'bout I get you somethin' to eat?"

Hannah glanced back over her shoulder at Fin before turning her gaze back toward the window. "I'm not hungry," she answered softly.

"Fine, how 'bout something to drink?" Fin attempted lightly.

She sighed. "Fine, I'll take a water."

He arched an eyebrow inquisitively. He wasn't sure when the last time he heard a teenager ask for water was. "A water…no coffee, soda, anything like that."

"I said a water," Hannah returned defensively. "I don't drink any of that."

Fin nodded. "Okay, I'll be right back."

*************************************************************************************

"Kim, can I help you with something?"

Huang turned around quickly at the sound of a light knock coming from the door. He set down the book in his hand, gesturing at the empty chair across his office.

She hesitated at the door before finally entering and sliding down to take a seat. "Are you busy?"

Huang shrugged. "Not with anything I can't come back to," he responded simply.

"I know we haven't really had the chance to work together much, but everyone else seems to come to you so I thought maybe I'd stop by."

Huang nodded in understanding. "These cases aren't always easy," he acknowledged softly. He crossed back over to his desk so he could sit down again and meet her at eye level. "You know they affect even the best of us."

Kim nodded. "I know." She paused. "You know back in D.C., things were easy. It was all domestic violence cases. There were wives and the men who battered them. There was no middle ground."

"SVU isn't quite like that," Huang returned. "Nothing is black and white no matter how clear cut a case seems to be."

Kim sighed. "Yeah, I'm starting to realize that." She drew in a deep breath. "So how do you guys deal with it over and over again?"

Huang shook his head. "They don't. Why do you think I'm here?"

Kim nodded. "Yeah, well sometime I'm not sure I can deal with it either—like this last case. I got lucky. George, I'm not so sure I could have done it if had ended up being a New York case. She was fourteen years old. What if I had won?"

"You'd be doing your job."

Kim laughed and looked away. "Yeah, well, then maybe there's such a thing as being too good at your job? Maybe sometimes I want to lose."

_Too good at your job. _

Huang closed his eyes. "Sometimes that's the hardest part," he admitted quietly, his words suddenly tinged with regret. Being too good at your job _was_ the hardest part—creating a profile that blended so seamlessly with another world that suddenly vulnerability, even when closely guarded, became absolute. Vulnerability left one completely exposed to anything and everyone. Vulnerability was dangerous, and so were the consequences. It was his job to protect them. It was his job to protect her.

His success had become her success, and inevitably her failure. Because even though he didn't have the slightest idea what had happened, he knew that something had happened. It was in the way she moved, walked, talked. It was in the way she avoided him at all costs. It was in the way that she was fighting to escape the identity of Katrina Rae Lewis—an identity that he had created. An identity so flawlessly constructed that the line between Katrina Rae Lewis and Olivia Benson had become hopelessly intertwined in a way that he wasn't ready to admit.

"I think I need some perspective," Kim announced softly, shattering his reverie. "I need to go back to D.C. to take care of a few things. And I need to decide if this is something that I can really do."

Huang nodded. "It sounds like you've already made up your mind to go. So why did you come here?"

Kim took a deep breath. "Because the squad has too many open cases for me to just walk away right now. I thought you might be able to help me find someone who can step in for a few weeks."

Huang hesitated. "Somebody in particular you're thinking of?" he asked slowly.

Kim nodded. "Yeah, but I'm going to need some help to pull it off. You're FBI, right? You've got connections? George, I came here because I needed your help."

*************************************************************************************

"Any word from Olivia yet?" Fin waited until the door fell shut behind him before he finally spoke.

Cragen shook his head. "Nope, no word yet." He eyed Fin carefully. "What are you thinking?"

"Something is a little off here. Do we know why the sister thinks that somebody's hurting her?" Fin inquired gently.

Elliot crossed his arms in front of him, rocking back against the wall as he surveyed Fin's reaction to his words. "Regina won't talk to anyone except for Olivia."

Fin studied her through the window. "Hannah should be hungry by now. We checked her schedule before we brought her in. Captain, she'd been in non-stop classes and rehearsals for six hours before we picked her up. She's been here another four hours."

Cragen nodded. "You're thinking there's a reason she's not hungry."

"Could be stress," Elliot suggested.

Fin nodded. "Yeah, or somethin' else."

Elliot's eyes widened as he realized what Fin was hinting at. He nodded his head in agreement. "A pregnancy could tip the sister off that there's a problem."

Cragen sighed. "Yeah, or a sign that little sister is not so little anymore. If she's pregnant, that doesn't mean the sex wasn't consensual."

Fin shook his head. "I don't know, Captain. She acts like a victim."

"She acts like she has something to hide," Elliot corrected him. "And I think it's time we figure out what it is."

Cragen nodded. "Fine, let's cut her loose. Before you take another crack at her, let's bring the sister back in. If she wants us to help her sister, she's going to have to tell us why she thinks there's a problem." He flipped his phone open and dialed a number. "And if we're going to get her to talk, we need Olivia down here now."

*************************************************************************************

"Give me a minute, John." Olivia drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was still frozen in place. She couldn't move. "I can't do this. I can't face her again," she admitted softly.

"Yes, you can," Munch encouraged her. He turned to face her. "Olivia, whatever it is, you'll be just fine." He stared at her helplessly. There was something new in the expression on her face. It was a quiet desperation, an utter panic whose source he couldn't quite identify. It was a fear that went far beyond what could have happened at Sealview. It wasn't just panic that Elliot would find out that Hannah was her niece. It was something more. And he wanted desperately to know, wanted desperately to understand.

Cragen had been the one to tell him the truth. It was a truth with no further details—as much as he needed to know to get her to come down here. As much as Cragen dared tell anyone without her permission. And Munch had returned to his desk, had sat at his computer while everyone else went into interrogation room one. And he had known. He had known that with a couple of quick keystrokes, all answers would be revealed. And yet he couldn't do it. He couldn't betray her like that. Olivia had always kept her past closely guarded; she had released what little information she needed as she gained the strength to accept it.

It was her surviving mechanism. It was her way of finding control. It was her way of moving beyond a lifetime full of pain that he couldn't even begin to understand because he knew that the tiny glimpses she had let them all see were nothing compared to the full picture. He had seen it enough times to know that for every story she dared to tell, there were many far more horrifying ones kept in silence. And that silence was what she needed to survive it. That silence gave her the strength she needed to do her job every day in a way that they never understood. Because her past was what tied her to every victim.

As much as she needed to believe she could hide it, it was there for everyone to see. Every one of them saw it. Every victim who ever walked through that door saw it. It was the one thing that connected them. They saw her vulnerability, and at the same time her strength. And they trusted her—implicitly with every sordid detail of their own tragedy. And somehow she gave them hope that they could survive it. She gave them strength to move on. And she used that strength to push herself forward—to push all of them forward.

It was a fragile balancing act that she managed day in and day out flawlessly. And they all understood. They understood her need to hold them at a distance because they weren't quite sure they were ready to accept the full truth she had to offer. And so they had done the only thing they knew how to do. They let her keep her secrets. Because for every tragedy she had overcome, she had found strength for all of them. That strength was the one thing that held the squad together, and without her, everything and everyone fell apart.

Munch knew he could search for the truth. But when he found it, he knew without the slightest hesitation, she would run again. He couldn't let her do that again. He needed her. Elliot needed her. They all needed her to stay. And as much as he wanted and needed to know the answers, he couldn't bear to lose her again. None of them could. So instead he turned back to her again.

"How about another trip around the block?" he suggested softly.

She nodded. "Just one more," she whispered quietly.

Munch rotated away from her again, staring straight in front of him as he pulled the car away from the curb once again. He felt his phone vibrating against his hip in yet another one of Cragen's futile attempts to summon them both, and he ignored it. He ignored it, searching desperately for some way to assure her of the unknown. Because he couldn't tell her that everything was going to be okay. It was easier this way, easier to circle the block in an endless cycle of the known than to dare confront the unknown. Munch turned the corner again and tried to figure out how to help her—how to help her confront a past that had now collided with the present without losing everything she had left. Without losing everything they all had left.

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	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

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The door slammed shut behind her, and Olivia took a tentative step forward toward interrogation room one. She allowed her eyes to slip closed for a brief moment as if bracing herself for what she was about ready to find. When she opened them again, she studied the floor for a long moment. When she finally dared lift her chin up, her eyes surveyed the room in surprise.

_It was empty._

"We sent her home."

The voice behind her startled her, and Olivia spun around in surprise before she could gain control over the mixture of emotions reflected on her face. "Jesus, Elliot, what are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." He didn't turn toward her. Instead he stared straight ahead as if afraid that somehow the slightest movement might cause her to run again.

She nodded silently, crossing her arms over her chest as she searched for the question she needed to ask. Before she had a chance to form the words, he beat her to it.

"Who is she, Liv?"

Four words. Four words that answered all of her questions and none of them all in the same breath. Four words she had known were coming, but suddenly there was no way around them. Olivia looked around, searching for any means of escape. She couldn't do this—especially not right now. She bit down on her lip and did the only thing she knew how to do. "Where's Hannah?" she countered.

"Captain sent her home," he returned without missing a beat. "She wouldn't talk so Fin is bringing the sister in."

Olivia nodded. "Regina," she added softly. Her gaze returned back to the floor.

Elliot finally turned toward her. "Who is she, Liv?" he repeated firmly.

She drew her eyes up slowly. "None of your damn business, Elliot." She turned quickly and was halfway to the door when he caught up with her. His arm wrapped around her elbow as he pulled her back toward him.

"Tell me."

She shook his hand off violently. "Get your hand off of me," she commanded coldly.

He stepped back, shock registering on his face. "Liv, I…" He stared back at her in confusion. "I'm sorry," he finally managed. He searched her eyes for something, anything to help explain the sudden panic reflected within them.

The panic turned to a glare that sent him a step back away from her. "You're sorry," she spat back bitterly. She felt the slightest sense of relief as she saw him slowly start to retreat. "Sorry for what, El?" She searched his face for his reaction before desperation finally took hold again. To hell with caution. She needed an escape, needed some way out. She needed something, anything to stop Elliot in his tracks. She forced a cold expression on her face. "You weren't there when it mattered, Elliot, so don't bother trying to make up for it now."

And without another word, she spun back around and escaped out the door before the implication behind her words set in. Before the inevitable guilt took hold. And before he glimpsed the first traces of the tears now streaming down her face.

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"She didn't mean it."

Elliot drew his gaze up slowly. He turned around behind him and saw Regina step out of the shadows. He cleared his throat, searching for Fin's figure behind her. She was alone.

Regina took a step closer. "Fin just stopped to grab something from his desk," she explained. "He told me you would be in here with Olivia."

Elliot sighed. "Yeah, well, I thought I'd be in here with Olivia." He offered her a half smile. "I'm sorry."

She flattened herself up against the wall, avoiding his eyes. "That's all right. I'm used to her not being here," she responded carefully.

Elliot crossed the room toward her. "You seem to know her awful well," he hedged cautiously.

She shrugged. "I used to. We haven't seen her in a few years."

"How many?" Elliot inquired casually. As soon as he was facing her, he leaned back up against the two way mirror, searching her face for a reaction.

"Eight," Regina sighed. She took a deep breath. "But it's my fault she stopped coming around. If it weren't for me, Hannah would have had someone to go to for help."

Elliot turned toward her, gently encouraging her to look back up at him. "What do you mean?"

"It was my sixteenth birthday," Regina admitted softly. Olivia took me to go get my driver's license and let me drive home." She averted her eyes away from his. "I got in a little accident." She shrugged. "It was stupid really, and it was just a little fender bender." She finally raised her eyes back up to meet his. They were glistening with tears. "But that was the last night Olivia ever came over."

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"Olivia!"

Olivia ignored the voice calling her name as she fought for a breath of fresh air. She forced out a shaky breath, struggling desperately to pull herself together. God, she couldn't take this. What the hell was wrong with her? And what the hell was she thinking when she decided she could come back here?

"Olivia." The voice was quieter now. Olivia turned slowly to face Cragen. Her eyes were still wet with tears.

"Please, not right now." She hated the broken words that escaped her lips with a sudden fervor. Her fingertips gripped the railing in front of her as she ducked her head. But it was too late. There wasn't a chance in hell he hadn't seen the tears already. "Look Captain, I'll be fine. I just need a minute." Her voice suddenly hardened as she turned back toward him, her face completely stoic.

"I'm sorry." The two words spoke volumes without the need for anything more. Two words that instantly carried with them the weight he had shouldered for letting her go undercover along with a newfound sense of responsibility to protect her from a past full of a pain and suffering that went far beyond anything he could ever imagine.

She allowed silence to envelope them, allowed it to sweep away his words in a way that only served to mask the truth behind them. When she finally spoke, she fought to control the tremble in her lower lip. "How much do you know?"

He took a cautious step forward, gripping the rail with both hands and surveying the city below them for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "All of it."

She closed her eyes. "Captain, I'm sorry. I should have told you."

He focused on a spot in the distance. "You know the day that Marge died, there was nothing I wanted more than to curl up inside a bottle. I figured it would either kill me or I'd get to a point where I wouldn't feel anything anymore." He closed his eyes briefly. "Either option seemed better than what I was feeling."

She turned toward him in surprise. "But you didn't?"

"No," he agreed. He shifted slightly, leaning his forearms against the railing. He sighed. "I came here instead."

Olivia's lips curved upward. "And you got stuck with us. You must be a glutton for punishment." She shook her head to throw back the bangs blowing in her face.

The smallest hint of a smile crossed over his face. "I got stuck with all of you," he agreed softly. "And I found a family again." He turned his head slightly to gauge her reaction. "Olivia, we're all here for you. But you can't keep pushing us away. You can't keep pushing Elliot away."

"Captain, I…"

"Olivia, you know he'd understand," Cragen broke in gently.

Olivia blinked hard. "No, he wouldn't," she whispered. She shook her head, brushing back the tears that crept forward again. "Captain, Elliot's family is everything to him. To him, a wedding vow is some sacred promise before God." She took a deep breath before finally meeting his steady gaze. "Don, my marriage wasn't anything like that," she admitted quietly. She lowered her gaze ever so slightly.

"Olivia, you never had a chance to let your marriage be any of that."

Olivia nodded. "Yeah, you're right." She took a deep breath, pushing off of the railing as she turned back toward the door. "It was over long before I had the chance."

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"Sorry 'bout the wait." Fin's voice pierced through the quiet room. He surveyed both Elliot and Regina and hesitated. "Where's Olivia?"

"She's not here right now," Elliot answered, his voice suddenly short. He glanced around the room. "Look, why don't we go someplace where we can all sit down." He nodded toward the bullpen.

Fin nodded in understanding. He met Elliot's eyes briefly before he spoke. "Sure, it's a lot more comfortable upstairs," he suggested quickly. He pulled the door open behind him, leading Regina down the hall and upstairs to the couch.

As she perched herself on the edge of the couch, Regina relaxed visibly. "It's nice up here," she commented softly. Her eyes studied the pictures on the wall. "Who drew those?"

Elliot took a seat next to her on the couch. "We tend to have a lot of kids come in. Sometimes drawing pictures is easier than talking about what happened."

Regina nodded. "That's the way Hannah is," she conceded softly. She paused. "Except it's not pictures. Dancing is how she expresses herself."

Fin nodded. "Is that how you knew something was wrong?"

She turned her head toward him and sighed. "Not at first."

Elliot's voice was soft and encouraging when he spoke again. "Regina, your sister didn't tell us a whole lot. We need you to tell us what you know if you want us to help your sister."

"I don't know who's hurting her," she admitted quietly.

"But you know something is wrong?" Fin added. "How?"

"I've been after Hannah for years to get away from the studio," Regina began slowly. "I don't mean stop dancing. But she doesn't have any type of personal life—she doesn't go out with friends. She doesn't date. She's twenty years old, and I don't even think she's had her first kiss."

"Then something changed?" Elliot prompted.

"No, that's the thing." Regina shook her head. "She still never leaves the studio, but…" She hesitated. "I normally work out in Jersey, but a few months back, the clinic I worked for needed some extra help out here. I haven't had a chance to spend much time with Hannah since she went off to school so I volunteered to come out and work for six months while I stayed with Hannah at her apartment."

"And that's when you noticed something was wrong?" Fin noted.

"Yeah, I started to notice little things. But I didn't think much of it until I saw her dance. That's when I realized that something had changed." Regina hesitated. "Watching her move is the only time that Hannah ever lets anyone really see her. It's like a window into her soul. The piece I saw her dance was beautiful and heart-breaking. She told me about it later—it was about everything that society uses to define a woman—sex, marriage, motherhood." She paused. "Hannah has never even been out on a Friday night. She's never had the chance to experience any of that. And I know this sounds completely crazy, but somehow she's able to dance it as if she has."

Elliot drew in his breath slowly, the expression on his face doubtful. "What kind of little things did you notice?"

Regina averted her eyes away from his. "I'm sorry," she managed. "I can't." She hung her head slowly. "I just don't feel comfortable talking about it with…"

"So tell me about it."

All three of them turned in surprise to see Olivia. She hesitated at the edge of the stairway as if unsure whether or not to proceed forward.

Regina flew to her feet and crossed toward Olivia cautiously. "Aunt Olivia!" She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do." Tears filled her eyes. "I didn't know who else to turn to."

Olivia held Regina's gaze for a long moment before wrapping her up in her arms. "It's okay, I'm here now." She pulled Regina closer as her shoulders began to tremble. "I'm here now," she whispered softly.

"I…just wanted… to protect her." Regina's voice was broken as she pulled Olivia in tighter.

"I know, honey," Olivia soothed gently. "It's okay." As the words fell from her lips, Olivia finally dared raise her eyes to meet Elliot's. The expression on his face was stunned. She felt completely helpless as she watched the surprise melt into that of betrayal. Olivia squeezed her eyes shut. "It's going to be okay," she whispered. She drew in a shaky breath, finally forcing herself to look back up at him. When she spoke again, her words were meant for both of them. "I'm sorry."

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	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

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"Thank you for calling me."

Olivia nodded at the woman who stood across from her. "I knew the girls would want you here, Liz." She glanced around the tiny room. "Listen, I need to talk to Hannah to find out what's going on."

"Can I come in there with you?" Elizabeth Leawood stared through the two-way mirror and watched as Hannah began to drum her fingertips lightly on the edge of the table.

Olivia gave her an apologetic smile. "Liz, I'm sorry. I can't let you do that. Why don't you stay here with Regina," she suggested gently.

"But I'm her mother!"

Olivia nodded. "Yes, and she's an adult. Now I really need to get Hannah to talk. But she's not going to feel comfortable if she knows that you're listening."

Liz turned back to her in panic. "Do you really think somebody is hurting her?"

Olivia hesitated. "Liz, I don't know anything for sure. The only way we're going to know something more is if you let me go in and talk to her alone."

"Well, can I hear what you're saying?"

Olivia shot a helpless look over to Cragen. He nodded back at her. "It will just be the three of us in here," he added softly. His focus shifted to where Regina was now standing next to her mother, but Olivia caught the hidden meaning behind his words.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, you can listen in," she agreed. She turned back toward Cragen. "I'm ready whenever you are."

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Olivia stepped through the door carefully, pulling it closed behind her for a moment as she surveyed the room. Hannah had not moved from her spot at the table.

"So you decided you'd actually come this time."

Olivia winced at the sharp words. She crossed the room slowly and slid into a seat across from her niece. "Look, Hannah, you have every right to be angry with me. I know I wasn't there for you, and I'm sorry."

"Good," she muttered underneath her breath.

"Regina tells me that you've become quite the dancer," Olivia added gently. "I'd like to see you perform sometime."

The expression on Hannah's face softened ever so slightly. "I have a concert coming up," she offered.

"You're a senior in college now, right?" At Hannah's affirmative nod, Olivia continued. "Is the concert something you've been working on at Hudson?"

Hannah nodded again, averting her eyes away from Olivia. "Yeah, I'm dancing this piece called _Journey_. At least, I think I am."

"You think that you are?" Olivia repeated. She cocked her head slightly. "You're not sure?"

Hannah swept her hair back away from her face. "Pasha's not sure I'm ready to dance it for a main stage concert."

"Pasha takes pretty good care of you, doesn't he?" Olivia acknowledged softly.

Hannah nodded. "Yeah, he's absolutely amazing. You should see the difference in my technique since I started working with him. He choreographed the piece just for me."

"This is the piece that Regina was telling me about," Olivia added. Her eyes darted back over to Hannah, and she studied her reaction. "The one about sex, marriage, and motherhood…those are pretty tough subjects to dance about if you've never experienced them."

"Yeah, well Pasha's pretty amazing. He helps me to know what that's like so that I can express it as I'm dancing."

Olivia nodded slowly. "How does he help you to know what that's like, Hannah?"

Hannah lowered her eyes. "You know…by doing things with me."

Olivia took a deep breath. She reached across the table and encouraged Hannah to look back up at her. "You mean like sex?" she asked gently.

"It's no big deal," Hannah shot back quickly, a slight edge to her voice.

Olivia searched her face. "Hannah, did you want to have sex with him?"

Hannah shook her head. "It's my fault it started. He said that if I wanted the part, I needed to understand what that was like so I let him touch me. But then he kept going," she whispered. "He wouldn't stop."

Olivia closed her eyes. "And after that…"

Hannah dropped her eyes back to the floor and turned away from her. "After the first time, it was just easier to let him than to try to say no again."

Olivia stood up and crossed the room. She knelt down beside her niece. "Hannah, what you're describing is rape."

Hannah shook her head adamantly. "No! No, it's not. He didn't threaten me. He didn't hurt me."

"Honey, he did. He took advantage of his power over you. He forced you to have sex with him."

She shook her head again. "Aunt Olivia, no! It's all my fault."

"No, honey, it's not your fault."

"Yes, it is! If I'd been able to give him everything he needed. If I'd been able to experience everything and dance everything the first time, he wouldn't have needed to do it again."

Olivia froze. She tilted her head toward Hannah. "Pasha said you weren't ready to dance it yet. What did he mean by that?" she asked slowly.

"He asked me to marry him, and I said yes," Hannah admitted. She wiped away a tear. "But first, he said I needed to get pregnant. He said that was the only way I could understand the choreography. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't get pregnant."

Olivia's brow furrowed in confusion. "Hannah," she began softly. "Regina was worried about you because she's been living with you for five months and you haven't had your period the entire time. Are you sure you're not pregnant?"

Hannah nodded. "I've been checking every two weeks. It's always negative."

"Then why haven't you had your period, honey?"

Hannah hesitated. She tucked a single tendril of hair back behind her ear and ducked her head again. "I don't have the perfect dancer's body," she admitted quietly. "I would never be able to keep dancing if I didn't watch what I eat."

"You're anorexic." Olivia's voice was stunned. And suddenly, everything that Regina had told her made perfect sense. "Hannah, one of the symptoms of anorexia is called amenorrhea. It's when you stop having your period. Your body can't produce eggs anymore, and you're not able to conceive. That's why you can't get pregnant."

Hannah nodded. "I know. All of the girls in the program have eating disorders. That's why Pasha told me he needed to find someone else to dance the piece. He said that all of the girls at Hudson were too old to have that perfect dancer's body naturally. He said he'd have to find someone else younger who could still get pregnant. If I had just been able to get pregnant for him, he wouldn't have had to hurt anyone else."

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"And I thought you not telling me you had a little Tutuola running around was bad."

Fin paused midway through pouring a cup of coffee. He rolled his eyes at his partner. "Please don't tell me you're going to bring that up again."

Munch raised an eyebrow. "Well, at least in your case it was just a son. Olivia apparently has an entire family she's been hiding from Elliot."

Fin grimaced. "Yeah, and that is not going to go over well. Especially not right after finding out about…" He froze, the cup of coffee in his hand poised over Munch's desk. Shit, he'd almost said it out loud.

"Sealview," Munch filled in, grabbing the cup of coffee from Fin's hand. He took a sip, eyeing the look of surprise on his partner's face. "You didn't actually think I wouldn't be able to figure it out, did you?"

Fin sighed. "No," he admitted grudgingly. "In fact, I'm surprised you weren't the first to know. You can smell a conspiracy a mile away."

Munch grinned back at him. "Yeah, well I definitely didn't smell this one coming," he added, nodding toward the crib. "Olivia just went upstairs. The girls are down here waiting with Mom which means Elliot and Olivia are alone up there." He hesitated. "And we both know what that means."

"Yeah," Fin grunted. "This is not going to go well at all." He turned toward Munch, his face suddenly serious. "How'd she take the news?"

Munch studied the cup in his hand with newfound interest. "Not well," he admitted softly, the light-hearted tone suddenly gone. "She was barely holding herself together before she came in. I don't know what she's hiding, but I do know that if Elliot pushes too hard, those girls are going to be the only thing keeping her here."

Fin sighed as he saw Cragen slowly approach from across the room. "Yeah, and based on the look on Captain's face, I'd say things are about to get worse."

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_Aunt Olivia._

Aunt. Olivia. Elliot paused, still struggling to grasp the combination of the two words rolled together into one. They didn't belong together. They sure as hell weren't supposed to go together. And yet, they had. They had slipped out of Regina's mouth so seamlessly—so seamlessly that for a brief second he'd thought he'd imagined it.

Until he saw the look on her face. Until he saw the way the words tore her apart, exposing a truth that suddenly he had no idea had ever been a part of her.

Aunt. Olivia. His mind was spinning, searching for answers. The rational part of him tried to sort through them. There were only certain ways that those words could possibly go together. He'd tried to tell himself it was just a nickname, some pet name given to her by a girl who desperately needed a family. The look on Olivia's face had shot that theory to hell.

_Simon._ It had to be Simon. Simon had gotten some girl pregnant a long time ago, and by default, Olivia had become Aunt Olivia. But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself of the truth behind those words, rationale dismissed them without a second thought. Regina was twenty-four years old. Olivia would have been seventeen when she was born. Simon was younger than Olivia. The chances of Simon having a twenty-four year old daughter were slim to none. The chances of Olivia knowing Simon's twenty-four year old daughter six years before finding out about Simon were…well, yeah, he'd just leave it at that.

Which left just two options…a sibling she'd never told him about?

_I have a brother._

He closed his eyes, remembering the way her voice had faltered on the words. Faltered as she realized that a part of her life that had always been empty was no longer so. Faltered in a way that told him now there was no mysterious sibling. There was no brother, no sister she'd never told him about.

Which brought him to his final option.

Somehow, sometime, somewhere, the Olivia he'd always known had no longer existed. The Olivia that came home to an empty apartment for one had come home to a family, to a husband. And that husband had a family that Olivia had never experienced—a family that consisted of siblings with families of their own. A family called the Leawoods. A family with two children whom had known Olivia in a capacity he never had. A family that consisted of Regina and Hannah Leawood.

Suddenly, he sensed her presence in the room. He drew his gaze up slowly to meet her eyes. And he knew he had to understand. "You told me I knew everything about you…even the parts you'd rather forget," he began quietly. Elliot took a deep breath. "Olivia, why didn't you ever tell me you'd been married?"

As soon as the words left his lips, he saw her begin to shut down. He saw the panic take over. He saw her survival instinct set in, watched as her protective shield slid into place.

"In case you're thinking about denying it, keep in mind that two minutes at the computer, and I'd know you were lying to me again," he added coldly.

Olivia returned his steady glare. "Look Elliot, I came in here to check and make sure you're okay. But we are not having this conversation."

"Like hell, we're not," he snapped back at her. "Come on, Olivia. Tell me. Have you…" God, his heart suddenly froze in his throat. If Regina had Olivia's business card from when she first started in the unit, had she… He swallowed hard. "Were you still married when I first met you?"

Her face softened ever so slightly. "Of course not," she managed quietly. "Elliot it was a long time ago."

"A long time ago doesn't tell me much, Olivia." He searched her face for a glimpse of the truth. "When?"

She sighed. "Why does it matter?"

"It matters to me, Olivia." Elliot gritted his teeth, his voice suddenly sharp again. "Everything you've ever told me has been a lie." He crossed the room toward her until he stood just inches away from her. "What's the matter, Olivia? Didn't you think I'd understand?"

She swallowed hard. When she spoke, her voice was completely emotionless. "No."

He laughed mirthlessly. "Of course not because you're obviously so much better than the rest of us." His eyes hardened. "Every single one of us has been through it, Olivia. Hell Munch has been divorced four times. Fin once. Even Kathy and I are on round number two. Get over it." His jaw clenched in anger and before he said something else he was going to regret, he turned away from her. His back was still to her when she finally spoke.

"Elliot, I'm not divorced."

He turned back around slowly. As soon as he saw the expression on her face, he faltered. The hardened look on her face had crumpled, and the utter heart-wrenching look it left behind twisted his heart in his chest. She looked completely and utterly lost in a way that frightened him. Because Olivia was supposed to be able to handle his anger. Olivia was supposed to be able to handle his fears. Olivia was supposed to handle all of it—every unpredictable emotion he threw back at her.

She took a deep breath. "Elliot, I'm a widow."

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	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

_Elliot, I'm a widow._

The words were barely more than a whisper, but still he heard them. He heard them, but he had no idea how to process the impact behind them. And suddenly he wished the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. Because he saw her. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes, the tears she was desperate to mask, and the almost imperceptible shift in her breathing as she waited for his response. And he had no idea how to handle that.

He had no idea what to say to her, had no idea which emotions were appropriate to display. Empathy—Olivia Benson would kick his ass for showing empathy right now. Acceptance—she'd challenge it in a second. Anger—goddamn her for making him respond in that way. The sheer responsibility resting on his shoulders frightened him in a way that made him hesitate.

_It was just long enough._

The heart-wrenching look on her face solidified into the one thing he knew he'd never forget. Her eyes pierced through to his soul with a pain he had never felt before. And he wanted to take it all away. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay, but he knew he never could. There was no way to take away that kind of pain.

There was no way to take back a truth that he knew she needed to keep hidden. Because suddenly he saw it—saw that the words she had just let slip were only a small portion of a secret that was now consuming her with guilt. A guilt that blended with new emotions—a guilt that began with a hidden marriage and ended with Lowell Harris. It was an all-consuming guilt, one that could only be possessed by Olivia Benson. Because it was the one thing that had always tied them together. It was the one thing that he understood without question, the one thing that somehow enabled her to understand him without ever saying a word, understand him in a way that Kathy had always needed to.

It was that unspoken sense of responsibility, the instinctual need to protect others around them. It was the only thing that propelled them through every day. And it was the only way they could ever move past a case. It was also the one thing they both knew would tear them apart in the end. Because with that sense of responsibility to protect came the burden when one failed. And every failure became a part of them. Every failure became a little piece that they carried around with them, a piece of guilt that never seemed to dissipate. A piece of guilt that words could never take away. And yet, he knew he had to try.

"Tell me what happened." When he spoke, his voice was raw with emotion.

And just like he knew she would, she vanished. She turned around and walked away. And he understood. He understood that somehow, sometime, somewhere, she was blaming herself for her inability to save a man whose name he didn't even know. And the guilt of that knowledge was pulling her apart piece by piece.

_Because she blamed herself for everything that had happened._

And everything that followed. Including a story that he knew was waiting for him downstairs. A story that he had seen reflected in her eyes. Because in the midst of everything else, Olivia Benson had finally learned who number six was—and once again, she'd felt that failure at not having been able to protect.

He knew he couldn't take away that failure. He knew he couldn't take away that guilt. But he was not about to let that stop him from doing the one thing he did have control over. Elliot turned toward the door to get a report from Cragen. The man who had hurt Hannah Leawood was going to wish he'd never touched her. And Elliot was going to make sure he ended up behind bars even if he had to drag him there himself.

* * *

"Olivia, what are you doing here?" Huang snapped on the light next to his desk and turned back around to face her.

Olivia took a seat in the chair sitting across from his desk and folded her hands in her lap. "Hiding from my therapist," she answered matter-of-factly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

She studied her hands. "Hear me out," she responded simply. "I am not about to let some therapist throw me in the nut house just because I started carrying a gun again."

Huang nodded slowly. "Does your therapist think you're a danger to yourself or others?" he asked tentatively.

Olivia shot him a glare. "Do you really think I'm going to answer that?"

His lips curved upward in a small smile. "Okay," he agreed quietly. "Then why don't you tell me why you're here, Olivia?"

She closed her eyes. "Where exactly do you want me to start, Doc? Because there's a lot to tell."

"How about Sealview," he probed gently.

Olivia's eyes shot open. She studied the expression on his face carefully. "You know George, what happened at Sealview isn't your fault either," she managed quietly.

His eyes widened in surprise. "Are you shrinking me now?"

"No," she sighed. "Just clearing things up before we get started."

* * *

"What do you mean he's not at work?"

Fin hesitated. He glanced back at Munch before turning back to his captain. "I mean he disappeared after we pulled Hannah out of there and hasn't been seen or heard from since."

Cragen rolled his eyes. "Well, has anyone checked his home yet?"

"Elliot's on his way there now," Munch added. He hesitated. "Captain, there's something else. I ran Pasha's name through the system and got a match. He was brought in for questioning a couple of months ago when one of his other students confided in another teacher that he'd been forcing himself on her."

Cragen sighed. "Oh, this is great. What the hell is this guy doing still teaching?"

"Same old, same old," Fin answered. "The girl dropped the charges. She said she made the whole thing up, and the school believed her. They tried to keep it quiet so the rest of the parents wouldn't find out."

"And the school let him continue to teach there?" Cragen shot back incredulously. He reached for the file in Munch's hand. "Why don't I remember any of this? It should have been our case."

"It _would_ have been our case," Munch agreed. He handed the file over. "Had it happened at Hudson."

"Yeah," Fin added. "But it didn't. It was some private dance school out in Brooklyn."

Cragen studied the file carefully. "She was fifteen years old," he managed grimly.

Munch nodded. He turned back toward Cragen. "Apparently she went through with the exam at the hospital, but afterwards she changed her mind and claimed nothing happened. According to the report, the physical evidence was a little shaky to begin with. When she recanted, they didn't have much else to go on."

Cragen raised his eyes up from the file in his hand. "Munch, go pull the report from her rape kit. Find out what was in it, and then use that to try to get her to talk." Cragen hesitated. "Fin, go meet Elliot at Pasha's just in case there's trouble. He's out for blood so for God's sake, do not let him out of your sight on this one. The last thing that we need is a brutality complaint when we finally get this guy."

* * *

"Melinda, can I get your advice on something?"

Melinda glanced up from her computer. She absent-mindedly pecked away at a couple of keys before finally turning her full attention to the source of the voice. "Sure John, what's up?"

Munch slid a report across the desk to her. "Tell me what you make of this."

She scanned the paperwork in her hand. When she finished reading, she laid it down gently. "What do you want to know?"

"The kit was done on a fifteen year old girl. She claims she had never had intercourse before her assault."

Melinda nodded. "Okay, so what's the problem?"

"The lab report shows a torn hymen," Munch added.

"Yes," she began slowly. "That doesn't necessarily prove intercourse took place." She sighed. "The report also says she was a dancer."

Munch furrowed his brow. "Why would that matter?"

"Because dancers rarely have an intact hymen. Tears or stretching out of the hymen are very common with dancers and gymnasts. The only way to prove that intercourse actually took place would be the presence of prostatic acid phosphatase or spermicide."

"Neither of which were present," Munch added. He sighed. "Have you got anything else?"

Melinda skimmed over the report again. "Sorry, John. I wish I could help, but there's nothing here that's going to help you get the guy." She handed him back the file. "If you get anything else, let me know."

* * *

"I don't know how to help him deal with it."

Huang shifted slightly in his seat. "You mean Elliot?" He watched her nod in response, and he hesitated. "Olivia, Elliot will be fine. He just needs time to process what's happened."

Olivia turned away from Huang's steady gaze and stared out the window. "No, you don't understand. It's not just that I didn't tell him about Sealview. It's that I didn't tell him about…" Olivia's voice broke, and she threw her head back in the chair. She rolled her eyes up to stare at the ceiling and took a deep breath as she tried to pull herself together.

"You didn't tell him about what, Olivia?" Huang's voice was gentle, coaxing her to continue.

"It's that I didn't tell him about my marriage."

For a brief moment, he thought he had misheard her. His head shot up in surprise. And then his instincts kicked in, and he forced a blank look on his face. "I didn't realize you had ever been married."

Olivia sighed. "No one did," she admitted reluctantly. "I don't like to talk about it."

"So why are you bringing it up now?" Huang searched her face for answers, for any clue as to why she would have chosen to hide the truth from all of them.

"Because my niece needs my help. One of her teachers took advantage of her." Olivia swallowed the knot in her throat. "He raped her, George." She let her eyes flutter shut. "He raped her over and over again."

"Olivia." George's voice was suddenly soft. "Why did you come here?"

Olivia didn't answer. She stared back at him silently before she finally spoke. "I don't know. All I know is that he'll never hurt anyone else again."

* * *

Fin slammed the car door shut, glancing across the street at the brownstone in front of him. He double-checked the address on the slip of paper in his hand and briefly made note of the fact that Elliot's car was parked across the street. He sauntered up the sidewalk and took the first couple of steps before he noticed the door that was propped open just a couple of inches. There was an eerie quiet within. He hesitated for only a brief moment before grabbing his radio from his belt.

"SVU portable to central."

"Go ahead SVU portable," came back the clipped response.

"This is Odafin Tutuola, badge number 43198. I need back-up at 411 West 46th Street," he responded quietly.  
As soon as he heard confirmation that his message had gone through, Fin flipped the radio to silent and drew his Glock. He pushed the door open quickly and stepped through the entryway, his body alert for the slightest hint of movement.

The main foyer was empty, but he was quick to notice the overturned bench just inside the door. Shooting a quick look over his shoulder, Fin cautiously turned toward the living room area.

_And that was when he saw it._

Fin dropped his gun to his side and felt his shoulders fall forward in defeat. He swallowed hard. "Elliot, what happened?"

Elliot turned around at the sound of the familiar voice. "He's dead." His voice was hollow, empty.

Fin nodded. "Yeah, I can see that. What happened?" He pulled Elliot's gun from his hand gently.

Elliot raised his eyes to look at him, startled at his response. "I don't know, Fin." He shook his head. "I don't know."

* * *

Olivia, tell me about your marriage."

Olivia averted her eyes away from Huang and searched for something, anything else to look at. "I told you I don't like to talk about it."

Huang nodded. "I know, but Olivia I can't help you unless you talk to me. What happened?" he probed gently.

She stared out the window, her eyes distant. And for a long moment, he didn't think she had heard him. When she spoke her voice was quiet. "There was an accident," she finally admitted. She raised her eyes to meet his again. They were damp with tears. "Can we please not talk about that right now?" she begged.

"Okay." Huang took a deep breath. "How old were you, Olivia?"

"Young."

"How young?" he probed gently.

"Really young." She took a deep breath. "I was sixteen. He was one of my mother's students. I was in her office waiting for her to get out of class when he stopped by to get some help on a paper."

Huang sat back in his chair and let the words sink in slowly. "Olivia, a minor can't legally enter into a marriage without parental consent. What did your mother say?"

"My mother tried to kick him out of college," Olivia responded. She sighed. "Trust me she wasn't consenting to anything."

"Then how did you…"

"There are ways around it." The first tear slowly slid down her cheek before she turned away from him.

_And that's when it hit him. _She was right. There _were_ other ways. And suddenly he understood the loss that had kept her quiet all these years, the heartache she must have felt. He closed his eyes. "Olivia, I…"

"Please, don't. Don't say you're sorry, George." Olivia's eyes were pleading. "It doesn't change anything, and I can't listen to it again."

"Have you ever told anybody?"

Olivia shook her head miserably. "I told Casey I was engaged once when we were working a case, but I…I couldn't tell her the rest of the story." She turned to face him. "George, until now, I've never told anyone the truth. Not even my own mother."

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

* * *

"When I told you to call me if you got anything, I didn't mean go digging for a dead body." Melinda slipped a pair of gloves over her hands as she surveyed the scene in front of her.

Munch rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well what can I say?" He watched her as she moved across the room toward him and knelt down next to the body to get a better look. He nodded toward Pasha. "So what have we got?"

"Gunshot wound to the back of the head," Melinda observed wryly. She nodded toward the group of people gathering at the other end of the living room. "What's with all the suits?"

Munch sighed. "Don't ask. Just tell me—how long ago did he die?"

Melinda glanced back at the body. "Well, rigor hasn't set in yet. I'd guess he's only been dead a couple of hours."

Munch nodded soberly. "That's what I was afraid you were going to say. Any idea what kind of gun did the deed?"

Melinda studied the wound carefully. "I'd say it looks like a 9 millimeter. Why, you find a weapon?"

Munch shook his head. "Not yet," he said softly. "You got anything else for me yet?"

"Yet? I just got here." Melinda studied the expression on Munch's face carefully. "What's the rush? I thought you said this guy was your perp?"

"He was," Munch observed cautiously. "At least 'til somebody shot him in the back of the head." He nodded at the shattered lamp next to the body. "Any chance this was self defense?"

"Well, O'Halloran might be able to tell you more after they finish up in here." Melinda nodded over by where CSU was dusting for prints. "There are definitely signs of a struggle. But as far as the body goes…" She hesitated at the hopeful look on Munch's face. "Sorry, John. I'm definitely ruling this one a homicide. Whoever killed him was a good shot too. He never saw it coming."

* * *

"I thought I told you to watch him!" Cragen's voice rose a decibel louder.

Fin hesitated and snapped his phone shut, his partner's voice fading in the background. "Sorry, Captain. I got there as soon as I could." He paused, sinking down into a chair in Cragen's office. His eyes darted back over to the closed door before he turned back to Cragen. "Do you really think Elliot could have done this?"

Cragen sighed. "No, I don't." He closed his eyes. "Elliot's not a killer."

Fin nodded. "Yeah, I know. So why the hell isn't he talking?"

Cragen paused across the room. He flicked the blinds open and stared across the bullpen at his two best detectives. "I wish to hell I knew, Fin." He exhaled slowly, his mind searching for any plausible reason for Elliot's silence. No matter how many times, he played the situation over in his head, nothing quite made sense.

_Except for one thing._

Cragen closed his eyes. God, he needed to retire already. He wasn't sure he could make it through another week like this. "Fin, what happened during the Crewes' case?"

Fin froze as he let the words sink in. And suddenly the logic behind the question hit him full force. He stared down at his feet. "Nothin' Captain," he muttered quietly.

"Don't throw some blue line wall of crap at me," Cragen shot back. "Fin, what happened with Olivia?"

"She's been seeing a therapist. She's been getting the help she needs," Fin protested quietly. "Captain, she's in a different place now." He raised his eyes slowly to meet Cragen's. "And I know what you're thinking, but Olivia could never…"

_Get your hand off me._

Cragen stared straight ahead. In his mind, he replayed one scene over and over again as if on an endless loop. The way her eyes had glazed over as she had assaulted Thatcher. The way the fury behind every movement had radiated off of her. To this day, he wasn't sure if it had been her actions, or the seething anger behind them that shocked him more.

_A five year old could do a better job… Then go hire one._

Cragen closed his eyes to force the image away. "Fin, Olivia's a good cop. But you and I both know that when her emotions are involved in a case, she's downright unpredictable. Throw a sexual assault in the mix and…and then this." He tossed the Leawood file in his hands over to Fin and hesitated. "I don't want to believe it any more than you do, Fin. But there's only so much she can take. The question is, whether she's been pushed over the edge or not."

Fin stared back, his jaw tightening slightly. "Captain, this is Olivia we're talking about."

Cragen nodded. "I know. But Fin, an hour after somebody murdered Pasha, Olivia told Huang that Pasha was never going to hurt anyone else ever again."

* * *

Olivia spun the pen in her hand around again. She stared in front of her blankly. Finally, she allowed her eyes to shift back over to Elliot. She opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it again without a word. He was staring straight ahead, his eyes glued to the computer monitor. He hadn't said a word to her since the moment she stepped through the door. She chewed on her lower lip nervously before finally she found her voice. "Need some help?"

Elliot didn't even blink in response. He stared straight ahead of him. "Nope."

"Okay." Olivia tapped her pen on her desk lightly as she studied the set line of his jaw. She knew that expression. He was pissed. She sighed. He was pissed, and he wasn't going to tell her why. "So, what are you working on?"

"Nothing."

She raised an eyebrow. "Nothing?" He merely grunted in response. She tossed the pen in her hand on the desk in front of her. "Look, El. I'm sorry." She took a deep breath and finally drew her eyes up to face his reaction to the words.

He didn't move for a long moment. Then finally, he hit one final keystroke before turning back toward her. "What exactly are you sorry about, Olivia?" Elliot managed quietly.

She hesitated. And then because she had no idea how to respond, she clamped her mouth shut just as the printer behind her whirred to life. Olivia blew out the breath she had been holding and pushed herself up to her feet to pick up the printout. God, she needed time to think. She needed time to think before words were no longer necessary. Because no matter how many walls she threw up around herself, those damn blue eyes of his could melt them away in an instant. And she wasn't prepared to face him when he finally learned the truth.

Olivia snatched up the piece of paper from the printer and stared down at the DD-5 in her hand. The words were a blur. How long was too long? Too long to hold onto a secret, too long to admit she was scared of the truth, too long before Elliot realized that the reason she hadn't turned back around was because she had no idea how to put back together a crumbling resolve that only a lifetime of secrets had kept from shattering. A lifetime of secrets now exposed and the remnants of the only family she had left now torn apart by the one thing she'd always needed to escape and confront all at the same time.

"Are you going to keep staring at that, or were you planning on letting me have it back so that I can turn it over to Cragen?"

Shit. Olivia forced a hardened expression on her face and turned around slowly. Her eyes returned back to the printout in her hand, and suddenly she froze as the words in front of her sank in. Olivia slid the piece of paper in her hand over in front of him, her eyes accusing. "What the hell is this?"

He refused to look up at her. "What does it look like?" he shot back.

"A DD-5. Except what's written here is not what happened." Olivia blinked hard. But nothing had changed. The words in front of her were still the same. "What's going on here, Elliot?"

His jaw tightened noticeably. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Olivia forced herself to compose her voice before she dared speak again. "Elliot, why doesn't it say that I found the body?"

His eyes dropped down to the photo on his desk, and he studied it carefully. "It's better this way," he finally answered gruffly.

"Better for whom?" Olivia countered, the expression on her face puzzled. And then it hit her. She swallowed hard. "You son of a bitch. You think I did something to him, don't you?"

His silence spoke far more than words ever could.

Olivia laughed harshly. "I can't believe you could even think that. Elliot, I am not a killer."

When he raised his eyes to meet hers, she swallowed hard. Because suddenly she saw him, saw what she was doing to him. And the realization behind it shattered every last bit of her need to protect herself. Because protecting herself wasn't worth it if it came at his expense. And the man looking back at her was suddenly a complete stranger. Conviction had melted away to uncertainty, the need to uphold the truth had melted away to protectiveness, and the betrayal left behind was hauntingly familiar.

She had watched it grow for two years as it slowly took hold over him. She had watched it change him, had watched it change her. And she had wanted nothing more than to protect him from the pain behind it—had tried to do anything in her power to save him from a loss she had recognized all too well. But now, even amidst the loss of his marriage, those emotions had nothing to do with Kathy. Those emotions had to do with her. He had trusted her, and she had failed him in every sense of the word.

Olivia stared back at him, her own eyes filled with words she had no idea how to give him in return. But this time, there was no recognition, no acceptance that he understood. There was only resignation. And when he finally spoke, she felt the world crash down around her as the strength within her crumbled.

"I don't know who the hell you are anymore, Olivia."

* * *

"Hey, John. Where's Olivia?"

Munch glanced up quickly. O'Halloran stood next to him, waiting for an answer. "What do you mean, where is she? Olivia's back at the House," he answered carefully.

"Well, when is she coming back? We're trying to process the scene and could use a little help with what happened," O'Halloran interjected. He glanced back over his shoulder at the CSU technicians behind him and nodded some instructions at them.

Munch shook his head. "Sorry to tell you this. But somebody must have told you wrong. Olivia didn't find the body. Elliot did." He hesitated. "Cragen sent him back to the House."

O'Halloran stared down at the clipboard in his hand. "What are you talking about, John? Olivia was definitely here. Fingerprints don't lie, and I need to know what happened."

Munch's head snapped up. "What do you mean her fingerprints are here?"

"Her fingerprints are here—all over to be exact." O'Halloran paused and glanced over at Melinda. "I thought you said this was a homicide?"

Melinda looked up quickly. She drew herself up to her feet. "Yeah, I'm definitely ruling this one a homicide. Why?"

O'Halloran glanced up slowly. "Then somebody better tell me what's going on. When I came here nobody said anything about an officer involved shooting or the use of deadly force." O'Halloran hesitated. His eyes widened at the look of surprise on Munch's face. "You don't have any idea what I'm talking about, do you?" he added slowly.

Munch shook his head and sighed. When he spoke his voice was quiet. "No. And I'm almost afraid to ask."

O'Halloran glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody was listening in. When he spoke, his voice was grim. "I'm talking about the fact that we found the murder weapon—a nine millimeter Glock." He paused. "We'll run ballistics to make sure, but it looks like the shot was fired from Olivia's off duty service revolver."

* * *

"Benson, can I see you for a minute?"

Olivia hesitated. She shot a helpless look at Elliot before finally turning toward the source of the voice. Somehow when she spoke, her words sounded normal. "Sure, Captain. I'll be right there." She turned back toward Elliot and struggled to find something to offer him. "Look, no matter how this goes down, it doesn't have to…"

Elliot tossed the DD-5 in his hand at her. "Olivia, I found the body." He nodded. "That's all Cragen has to know."

Olivia shook her head. "Elliot, that's not going to work. If forensics haven't already come back, they're going to. I have to tell Cragen I was there." She paused and handed him back the paper in her hand. "I'm not taking you down with me." She drew herself up to her feet and started toward Cragen's office. She hesitated, turning back around. "Thanks anyway."

He looked up from the paperwork in his hand and nodded in response. His voice was suddenly gruff. "You're my partner."

She nodded in response. "I know." She blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes. "Hey El…" She met his eyes, suddenly needing him to understand. "I'm sorry."

Without another word, she turned around again. She forced herself to walk forward, forced herself to step through the door into Cragen's office. She waited silently as it closed behind her. She studied the expression on his face carefully as she stepped forward.

_He looked old._

Cragen had never seemed old to her before, but suddenly every wrinkle seemed more pronounced. She closed her eyes and felt the guilt closing in upon her. She was tearing them all apart—hurting every single one of them in a way that they would never be able to accept again. She swallowed hard.

"Sit down, Olivia." There were too many emotions in his voice for her to read—authority, concern, admonishment, fear. Every syllable seemed to suddenly echo within her.

Olivia didn't bother to protest. She took a seat across from him. She had never had a father before. Hell, she'd barely had a mother. Cragen had been the only one in her life who had ever looked after her, cared for her in that way. He was the only one who had ever nurtured her—watched her grow, and helped her through every time she tried to run away. He had been there for every success, and every failure. And when she fell, he had been the one to teach her how to get back up. But this time, there was no getting back up.

"Pasha Bolotovsky is dead."

Olivia nodded. "I know," she responded quietly.

"Your partner claims he found the body alone, but forensics puts you at the scene of the crime," Cragen continued. He folded his hands in front of him and searched her face. "IAB is on their way here, but I wanted to give you the chance to say something before they got here."

Olivia took a deep breath. "Captain, Elliot was just trying to protect me. He's a good cop."

Cragen nodded. "Yeah, he is. So are you. So what happened?"

Olivia stared straight at him. "I don't know."

Cragen seemed taken aback by her answer. "Olivia, he was killed with your gun. Your fingerprints were all over the scene. You're going to have to do better than I don't know. Now I can't help you if you won't let me."

"I didn't ask for your help, Captain." Olivia lifted her chin ever so slightly. "I didn't ask for anyone's help."

"Including Fin's?" Cragen added softly. "Olivia, what happened during the Crewe's case?"

"I had a flashback, Captain," Olivia admitted. Her words came out much quicker than she intended. She took a deep breath. "I had a flashback during the Crewe's case, and I held a gun to Pruitt's head."

Cragen nodded quietly. "Olivia, what happened today when you went to Pasha's house?"

Olivia allowed her eyes to flutter shut. She took a deep breath and then finally opened her eyes again. She held his gaze steadily. "I don't know what happened, Captain. I was in his house, and all of a sudden I saw him hurting Hannah, and then I saw Lowell Harris. And I…I had another flashback. Only this time, I pulled the trigger."

Cragen sat back in his chair, stunned. "Olivia, do you realize what you're saying?"

Olivia nodded dully. "I'm sorry, Captain." She stood up slowly and took a step closer toward the desk. Moving carefully so as not to startle him, she set her badge and her gun on the edge of his desk and turned her back away from him before he could see the tears swimming in her eyes. "Go ahead, Captain," she whispered quietly.

Cragen took her arm gently and slipped the handcuffs over her wrist. As he spoke, his voice was hollow, empty. "Olivia Benson, you are under arrest for murder. Anything you say or do can be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you…"

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

"Docket ending 1762. People of the state of New York versus Olivia Benson. One count murder in the second degree. "

Lena Petrovsky's head shot up, and she examined the woman across the room from her. "Detective Benson, I am shocked to see you here." She sighed and turned toward the defense lawyer at Olivia's side. "How does the defendant plead, Ms. Lornell?"

Olivia opened her mouth to speak and was interrupted by the young woman at her side. "She pleads not guilty, your Honor."

Olivia turned to glare at her attorney. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Olivia, let me handle this," the woman interrupted.

Judge Petrovsky nodded, turning to the assistant district attorney on the other side of the courtroom. "Bail, Ms. Kibre?"

"The defendant shot a man in cold blood. The people ask for remand."

"Your Honor," Alicia Lornell interrupted. "My client is a respected member of the NYPD. She has an impeccable record and absolutely no history of violence."

"She also confessed to the murder," Ms. Kibre shot back. "And has shown a propensity toward doing whatever it is she wants. She's a flight risk your Honor."

Petrovsky studied Olivia's face carefully. "Detective Benson, I expected better from you," she admonished. "No one here is above the law. Defendant is remanded without bail pending trial. Next case…"

* * *

"Where is she?"

"Elliot, I didn't have a choice." Cragen didn't bother to try hiding the sorrow in his voice. He raised his head up slowly. "Do you really think I wanted to arrest her? She confessed to murder."

"She didn't do it." Elliot crossed the room, his eyes flashing with anger. His voice broke. "Captain, I don't care what she said. Olivia isn't capable of murdering anyone."

"Do you think I want to believe she's guilty?" Cragen's voice was incredulous. "Elliot, the last thing I wanted to do was throw her in jail, but it was either I took her in, or I let IAB do it. Would you really rather Tucker had the satisfaction?"

Elliot swallowed hard. "There had to be other options."

"Well, if there were, I'd love to hear them." Cragen blew out the breath he'd been holding. "Elliot, Olivia's been through a lot more than you know about. I don't know what to believe anymore."

Elliot glared back at him. "Then believe what ten and a half years with her in this unit has told you!" He paced back and forth across Cragen's office.

Cragen nodded. He lowered his gaze ever so slightly. "I want to, Elliot. I really do."

"Then what's stopping you?" Elliot snapped. There were daggers shooting out of his eyes. The fury in his voice rose to a level that made Cragen cringe.

"You think yelling at me is really going to accomplish anything?" Cragen admonished softly, finally staring his detective straight in the eye. "Now I don't know what happened, but I do know we're not getting the full story. Olivia needs our help. Now if you want to fly off half-cocked, you go right ahead and do it. But that's not going to help her a damn bit."

Elliot swallowed hard. He dropped down into a chair across from his captain. He clasped his hands in front of them. His voice was empty when he spoke. "Fine, what do we do from here?"

"Get Munch and Fin here. And call O'Halloran. We need some answers, and he's the only one I trust to give them to us. And Elliot…" Cragen hesitated. "Elliot, IAB says we're too close to this investigation. As far as the brass is concerned, this is no longer an SVU case." He took a deep breath. "Everything from here on out has to be done under the radar."

Elliot nodded in agreement. "Got it." He drew his eyes up slowly to meet Cragen's. "Cap't, just tell me the truth. How bad does this look for her?"

Cragen avoided his eyes. "Not good, Elliot," he admitted softly. He took a deep breath. "The shot that killed Pasha came from her gun, and a gunshot residue test showed evidence that she'd recently fired a weapon."

Elliot closed his eyes. "She's going to need a lawyer."

A sad smile crossed over Cragen's face. "Don't worry, I've got that one covered," he added. "Kim's still in D.C., but I managed to talk her replacement into taking the case." He crossed over to Elliot and placed a hand on his shoulder. When Elliot finally met his eyes, Cragen paused for a moment. "Don't worry. Olivia's got the best lawyer in town."

* * *

"You know if you missed me that much, there are better ways to get me to come back than confessing to a homicide."

Olivia whipped around at the sound of the familiar voice. "Alex!" Her mouth dropped open in shock. She drew in a deep breath. "Alex, what are you doing here?"

Alex Cabot dropped her briefcase at the center of the table. "What do you think I'm doing here? I heard you needed a lawyer." She drew Olivia in close for a hug before releasing her. "Cragen called me," she admitted softly. She nodded over to Olivia. "How are you holding up?"

Olivia hesitated. "I'm hanging in there."

Alex nodded. "Okay." She took a seat across from Olivia. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Alex, I…" Olivia paused and took a deep breath. "I appreciate your coming out here to help me, but there's not much you can do."

"Olivia, the evidence against you is strong. I'm not going to deny that, but I'm not about to let that stop me from doing my job. Now I'm going to get you out of here." Alex gently encouraged her to look up at her.

"Alex, I'm changing my plea. I'm pleading guilty," Olivia confessed softly.

Alex's eyes widened slightly. She tipped her glasses up ever so slightly and studied Olivia carefully. "Okay…severe emotional disturbance," she countered.

Olivia shook her head. "No, Alex, you don't understand. I'd rather plead guilty than take the stand and testify. I won't do it."

Alex nodded slowly in response. "All right." She took a deep breath. "Olivia, I know you. I know you didn't do this. Who are you covering for?"

"No one."

Alex studied her face carefully. "You know lying and saying you're guilty when you're not is just as bad as lying under oath, Olivia." She nodded. "That's not who you are."

I'm not lying. I killed a man, Alex."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "_A man_, Olivia?"

"Pasha," Olivia corrected herself.

Alex nodded. "Right." She brought her eyes up to meet Olivia's. "You know I've been gone a long time, but not that long. I know you better than that."

"A lot has happened since you left."

"I know. You don't have to tell me that," Alex added quietly. "I lost everything when I left—my job, my family, my friends. When I came back, I didn't know how to take that back. Why do you think I didn't call you? I didn't know how to stop being a victim, Olivia. And if you think that I'm just going to stand here and watch you do the same thing, you're wrong."

"Alex, I can't even do my job anymore. I'm an emotional mess. Any chance I ever had at having a family again is gone. And I sure as hell don't need to tell you that I have no life outside of work." Olivia dropped her gaze away from Alex and studied the edge of the table. "I have nothing left to lose."

"That's not true. You have everything to lose. Olivia, you're sounding like a victim. Now, what happened? What changed?"

"Everything changed." Olivia drew in a shaky breath. "Nine months ago I was working undercover in a prison, and a male guard tried to rape me." She finally dared to look up. "It's been nine months, Alex. Nine months, and every time I close my eyes, I still see him. Every time I listen to a victim tell her story, I feel his body pressing up against mine. And every time I hear a loud noise, I still think he's about to find me."

Olivia blinked rapidly. "Alex, I can't change any of that. I've tried. I've been to therapy. I've been to group. Nothing I do is going to change how I feel. I've finally realized that the only thing left to do is to just accept that." She swallowed hard. "But I will _not_ let anyone else go through what I did." A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Alex, please don't take that away from me."

Alex nodded quietly. And suddenly she understood the absolute terror reflected in the eyes that stared back at her. "Olivia, you said you were assaulted in a prison?" She closed her eyes. "Which prison?"

* * *

"Sealview!" Fin stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face his Captain. "Please tell me you're joking."

Cragen shook his head and looked him straight in the eye. "I wish I were, Fin. That was Cabot. Apparently, they transferred her to Sealview."

Fin's mouth fell open. He took a deep breath. "Why the hell would they send her back to Sealview? Whatever happened to Rikers?" His eyes darted back over to Cragen. "Captain, you've got to get her out of there."

Cragen sighed, his voice suddenly heavy. "Fin, I'm not sure I can. The orders came from above me. Apparently the brass is trying to keep things quiet. They send her to Rikers, and all of a sudden, every single person she's ever testified against is going to want to get out on appeal."

"So they send her back to where she was assaulted instead? Oh, this is great," Fin shot back sarcastically.

Cragen winced. "Fin, as far as they're concerned—the assault never happened. Olivia never reported it, remember."

Fin looked like he had been slapped. "Captain, you've gotta get her out of there," he responded quietly. "It's too dangerous." He closed his eyes.

_Oh, I'm not sleeping. The night shift has its benefits—get what I'm saying. _

"Dangerous?" Cragen's word sliced through the image in Fin's head. "Lowell Harris is at Rikers, remember. It's not the same place it was nine months ago."

_I've got my eye on that fish you tangled with. Mighty tasty…_

Fin's eyes flew open again as he tried to block out the image. "Like hell it's not. Captain, Lowell Harris was not the only person assaulting inmates at Sealview. He's just the only one we caught. What about Matthew Parker?"

Cragen threw up his hands in defeat. His voice cracked with emotion when he spoke. "What do you want me to do, Fin?" he demanded quietly.

"Whatever it takes," Fin answered. "Captain, you weren't there. You didn't see her in that basement." He flipped open his phone to dial the name of the only person he could think of who would do whatever it took to stay at Olivia's side as long as possible. As the phone rang, Fin turned back to Cragen, his voice somber. "Captain, Olivia is nowhere near getting over what happened. You leave her in that place, and it doesn't matter if you ever get her back out because she's never going to be the same again."

* * *

"We've got a serious problem."

Munch turned to face Alex as if she were crazy. "More serious than the fact that Olivia is in jail at Sealview?" he demanded soberly.

"Olivia is going to stay in jail at Sealview unless one of you can get her to change her mind. She is dead set on pleading this out." Alex sighed in frustration. "And as her lawyer, I have to listen to what she wants. So a little help here might be nice."

"What do you want from us, Alex?" Cragen managed, each word weighted with the hopelessness of the situation.

"Well, it would have been nice if you'd given me a heads up on the fact that she was sexually assaulted nine months ago when you called me," Alex retorted. "But since it's too late to change that, why don't we start with a little background information."

Cragen nodded. "All right, what do you want to know?"

Alex returned his steady gaze. She took a deep breath. "Olivia had no problem confessing in your office, but she won't do it on the stand. I want to know why."

"She's protecting someone," Munch observed. He drew his eyes up and turned toward Fin.

Fin nodded, reaching for the file still lying on his desk. "Yeah, the question is, who?" He walked over to the board and pinned up three photos. "We've got three options—Hannah, Regina, or Liz."

"You think it's the mother?" Cragen inquired, his voice startled.

"I'm not about to rule her out," Fin shot back.

Munch nodded in agreement. "He's right, Captain. The mother was pretty upset that she hadn't been able to do anything. The fact that Regina came to Olivia instead of her own mother could push the mother over the edge."

"Hannah's probably the least stable from an emotional standpoint, but I'm not so sure she would hurt Pasha. She still thinks she's in love with him," Cragen observed.

"Yeah, but Regina is all about protecting her little sister. She's the obvious choice," Fin mused, carefully studying the three photos.

"But Regina wasn't there." The four of them turned around at the sound of the voice behind them. O'Halloran smiled grimly. "Hannah, on the other hand, was." He nodded. "Her prints are all over the house."

"How did you get her prints?" Munch demanded in confusion.

"The nice thing about having an overprotective aunt who's a police officer is that she had the girls printed when they were just kids."

Much nodded. "Okay, but we don't know when Hannah's prints showed up there. There's not exactly enough privacy to rape one of your students on campus so chances are it happened in his home. Her prints could have been there for weeks."

"He's right. That's not enough. So what else do we have?" Alex demanded.

"Signs of a struggle," O'Halloran volunteered. He threw down a set of photos. "Since everyone was a little too busy to come check out the crime scene, you missed the fact that things did not go down the way Olivia claims they did."

Cragen nodded. "All right," he agreed. He turned back toward his detectives. "Munch, I can't get you back in to the crime scene so go over every piece of evidence Ryan found. We're going to need all the forensics we can get on this. Fin, I think it's time you paid the Leawoods a little friendly visit. Maybe when they find out that Olivia confessed to Pasha's murder, one of them will talk. And Alex…" Cragen sighed. "Alex, Elliot's on his way to Sealview now. Let me give him a call. I won't make any promises, but if anyone can get her to open up, it's going to be him."

* * *

"Elliot." Olivia shot a nervous glance over her shoulder as the door slammed shut behind her. She turned her attention back to her partner and approached the table slowly, her footsteps quiet. "Elliot, what are you doing here?"

When he finally met her eyes, there was a mixture of hurt and fear within them that stopped her cold. He took a deep breath. "Talk to me, Liv."

She nodded and swallowed the knot in her throat. "Okay," she agreed quietly. "What do you want me to say?"

He closed his eyes. "I don't know, Liv. Something. Anything. Just please… talk to me. I need to feel like I know who you are again."

Olivia hesitated next to the chair across from him. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. "You know I never had a real birthday before." She took a seat across from him and stared straight ahead in front of her. "When I was growing up, my birthdays weren't exactly a time to celebrate." Olivia studied the ground carefully. "I loved my mother, but there were two days of the year she could never really handle. One was the anniversary of her rape and the other was my birthday."

Elliot turned toward her, his eyes softening with understanding. "I'm sorry."

Olivia nodded and took a deep breath. "Every year, she'd sit down with a bottle of vodka. She'd start first thing in the morning and drink all the way through. On my sixteenth birthday, she promised me things were going to be different. She told me to meet her at her office after I got out of school, and we'd do something special—just the two of us."

Elliot looked down for a brief moment. His voice was gentle, encouraging when he spoke. "So what happened, Liv?"

Olivia brushed her bangs back and let her eyes wander away from his. "I sat in her office, and I waited for her to get done teaching. But she never showed up." She took a deep breath. "I had been waiting awhile when he came looking for her." The faintest hint of a smile crossed over her face. "He was a student in one of her classes, and he needed her help on a paper so he asked if he could wait for her."

Olivia crossed her arms in front of her, averting her eyes away from his. "And I let him," she whispered. "We talked for a long time, and when she still hadn't shown up, he asked if he could take me out to dinner. And I said yes."

Elliot swallowed the knot in his throat, not quite sure if he was ready to hear the rest of the story. "What happened to your mother?"

Olivia sighed, her words suddenly filled with regret. "The same thing as always. She couldn't handle it so she got drunk." Olivia hesitated for a moment as if trying to decide whether to continue or not.

Elliot nodded to her. "It's okay, Liv."

She nodded and took a deep breath before continuing. "When he walked me home that night and saw the condition she was in, he didn't want to leave me alone with her so he let me stay at his place." Olivia closed her eyes. "There were a lot of nights like that."

"Olivia, you were sixteen years old."

"Elliot, I loved him. He took care of me. Six months after we met, we got married at a courthouse in New Jersey." Olivia hesitated. "Elliot, after that, I didn't have to go home to my mother anymore."

The sound of the cell door opening behind them startled them both. Elliot turned to her quickly, his eyes darting to the guard that was headed towards them. "Olivia, you were a minor. How did you get the court's permission to get married?"

The guard yanked her up by the arm. "Come on, time's up." He pushed her toward the door.

Olivia turned back toward helplessly. She swallowed hard. "Elliot…Simone Bryce." She turned toward the guard in front of her, her eyes pleading for him to give her one last moment. He nodded impatiently. Olivia turned back to face Elliot. "She was my lawyer." She took a deep breath. "She'll tell you everything you want to know."

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

_Simone Bryce._

Somehow the two words together comforted him. Simone Bryce, the Mother Theresa of children's rights, had been the one to protect Olivia long before he'd had the chance. Elliot wanted to know her story. He wanted to finally understand where the wistful, haunted expression in her eyes came from—the one that never failed to appear at the slightest mention of her mother. He wanted to understand her fears, share her grief. He wanted to know the part of her she had always kept hidden, wanted to know what it was she felt the need to protect him from.

_After that, I didn't have to go home to my mother anymore._

Elliot closed his eyes. The words had been spoken with such a mixture of helplessness and vulnerability, he wasn't sure he recognized her voice. And he sure as hell hadn't recognized the look that had crossed over her face when the corrections officer had pulled her away. He needed to understand her words, needed to understand her.

"You were supposed to be back five minutes ago," the officer growled, his fingers moving rapidly and without hesitation to pull her back toward him.

Elliot's heart ached as he watched the way her body instinctively flinched as the handcuffs came into contact with her wrists. But it was her reaction to her inability to hide those reflexes that reached inside of him and ripped what was left of his heart out.

"Thank you, CO."

Her words were dull, muted. _Unrecognizable._ There was an acceptance within them that Elliot couldn't understand. He needed to see her, needed to search within her eyes to find out where the pain behind those words had come from. Olivia turned her head over her left shoulder as the officer moved closer, his breath warm against her exposed neckline and his hand sliding dangerously lower down her back. And suddenly Elliot forgot how to breathe. He wasn't sure if it was the officer's movement or the words that followed that stopped his blood cold.

"Don't worry. You can make it up to me later."

* * *

  
"Captain Cragen, what are you doing here?"

Cragen watched as the door in front of him swung open cautiously. Elizabeth Leawood stood before him in the doorway, a dish towel haphazardly thrown over her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I was doing the dishes, and I didn't hear you at the door. I hope you haven't been waiting long."

Cragen smiled assuredly. "Just a moment," he answered politely. His eyes searched within the house for any sign of life. We came to talk to you and the girls," he added, nodding to where Fin stood at his side. "May we come in?"

"Yes, of course." Elizabeth stepped aside, allowing the door to slide open a little wider. "Please do. Olivia's friends are always welcome here."

She led them into the living room, gesturing over to the couch and hesitated briefly. "I'm sorry. I guess you took me a little off guard. I didn't really expect you to make the trip out to Jersey to see us. The girls aren't in right now. But please, can I get you anything to drink while you sit down?"

Cragen shook his head and took a seat on the couch. "No, thank you."

Elizabeth nodded before turning to Fin. "Nah, I'm good," he added.

She shot a quick glance over her shoulder. "I'm so terribly sorry, but when I went to answer the door, I left the water running in the kitchen. Would you excuse me for just a moment?"

"Please, go right ahead," Cragen assured her. He glanced over at Fin whose eyes were scanning over the living room. "We'll wait right here for you."

Elizabeth nodded gratefully. "Thank you. I'll be right back."

As soon as her back was to them, Fin crossed over to the fireplace, his eyes sweeping over the photos gathered there. He hesitated, lifting a silver frame off of the mantel. "Captain…" he began softly.

"That was taken on their wedding day."

Fin turned, startled, at the sound of Elizabeth's voice behind him. "Olivia looks so young." He handed the photo over to Cragen to inspect.

"She was," Elizabeth agreed softly. "My parents absolutely adored her, but they thought she was too young to be getting married." She hesitated. "A lot of people did, but Stephen really loved her."

Cragen nodded, handing the photo back over to her. "What about you?" he asked her gently.

Elizabeth laughed softly. "Olivia was young, but not nearly as young as everyone thought she was. She'd been through a lot. It was nice to see her finally have someone to take care of her." When she spoke again, there was a wistful expression in her eyes. "I guess I understood her better than most people."

"It sounds like you two were close," Fin added.

Elizabeth nodded quietly.

"Then I suppose you would want to help her if you found out she was taking the fall for a murder she didn't commit," Cragen eased in gently.

His words had the desired effect. Elizabeth's head snapped up. She looked startled. "What are you talking about?"

"Pasha Bolotovsky is dead, and Olivia confessed to his murder," Fin clarified. He studied her face carefully. "You know anything about that?"

"No." Elizabeth sank into the armchair at her side, her face suddenly pale. She drew her eyes up slowly. "And I would never let her take the fall for me if I did." She took a deep breath and when she finally dared to look at them again, her eyes were shimmering with tears. "You don't understand," she continued softly. "When Stephen first met Olivia, I was living with Regina's father. He…" She swallowed hard. "My ex-husband used to beat me every night when he came home. When I found out I was pregnant, I panicked. I was so afraid of what he would do to me when he found out," she admitted softly.

Elizabeth averted her eyes away from their steady gaze. "Olivia was only sixteen years old, but somehow she knew exactly what I needed. If it weren't for her, I would have never had the strength to leave my marriage." A single tear slowly made its way down her cheek. "Captain, I owe Olivia everything. If I have to go to jail for the rest of my life, I'll do it. I'll do anything—just please tell me what I need to do to get her out of there."

* * *

  
"Elliot, I can't talk to you. It's privileged."

"Simone, please." Elliot grabbed her by the arm, his eyes pleading with her for the truth. He swallowed hard. "Simone, Olivia told me to come to you. She told me that you could tell me the truth. Now I'm not asking you to break confidentiality as her lawyer. I'm asking you to tell me the truth as her friend."

Simone hesitated. "Elliot, do you know how much trouble I could get in for talking to you?"

He nodded, the look on his face one of pure desperation. "And I wouldn't be asking you if there was another way around it. Simone, Olivia is in jail for murder. I'm not on her case so I have no way to legally compel you to talk. Please…" His voice broke. "Simone, please, help me help her."

That got her attention. Simone's head shot up. "What are you talking about? Olivia's on trial for murder?"

Elliot nodded wordlessly. When he finally found his voice, his words were solemn. "If you know her at all, you know that Olivia is the last person in this world who would ever ask for anyone's help." He closed his eyes and prayed she wouldn't kick his ass for betraying her confidence. "Simone, Olivia was sexually assaulted while working undercover in a prison. She put herself back in that same prison to protect someone, and if I don't find out the truth, I'm never going to be able to get her back out."

Simone closed her eyes and nodded quietly. "Elliot, my hands are tied." She glanced over her shoulder warily. "I can't talk to you as her lawyer," she continued softly.

He nodded, sensing her walls beginning to break down. "Then talk to me as her friend," he demanded hoarsely.

Simone smiled softly. "You look like hell, Elliot." She lowered her eyes. "Come on. There's a coffee shop just around the corner. Let me buy you a cup of coffee."

* * *

  
"What do you want to know?"

Munch carefully studied the photos in his hands. "Anything you've got," he sighed. "Just tell me where we stand, Ryan."

O'Halloran winced. "Well, it's not good. Ballistics are back on Olivia's Glock." He nodded to the computer screen in front of him. "Take a look at the striation patterns on both bullets."

Munch sighed. "They're a match."

O'Halloran nodded silently. "Yeah, the murder weapon is definitely Olivia's, but it gets worse. We walked the crime scene. Based on the size of the wound and the trajectory pattern, the shooter had to be twenty feet away."

"How many shots were fired?" Munch inquired hesitantly.

"Just one," O'Halloran confirmed. "It takes a trained arm to shoot a man in the back of the head from twenty feet away."

"Hannah Leawood is innocent," Munch concluded glumly. "If she wouldn't even leave the studio for her high school prom, what are the chances that she's spent enough time at a shooting range to be able to pull off that kind of shot?" He hesitated. "Please tell me you have something else."

"Sorry, John," O'Halloran admitted. "Nothing concrete yet, but there is something else bothering me about the whole scene."

"Signs of a struggle?" Munch offered.

O'Halloran nodded. "Exactly. Let's assume somebody came up behind our victim and shoots him in the back of the head—where's the struggle?" He sighed. "It had to happen beforehand."

"Or after," Munch inserted. "It's possible somebody staged the scene after he was already dead. The question is who and why?"

"We'll find out soon enough," O'Halloran added grimly. His lips turned upward in the faintest hint of a smile. "I've had my crew piecing together the lamp. Once the glue is dry, we can try to test it for prints."

* * *

  
"The evidence says that I'm guilty. Why is that so hard for everyone to believe?"

Huang took a deep breath and counted to three before he dared speak. "Why do you feel like you have to convince us you're guilty?" he countered.

Olivia sighed. "I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything. I just want to tell the truth, George. I'm tired of living a lie."

"Okay, if you want to tell the truth, why don't you tell me again what happened?"

Olivia drew in a shaky breath. "Because I don't remember," she admitted quietly. "I remember letting myself into the house and hearing the door close behind me. And then I heard the crash." Olivia closed her eyes.

"What crash, Olivia?"

When she opened her eyes again, they were soft, unfocused. Her voice was quiet. "He was looking for me. He threatened to kill me. And when he found me…" Olivia broke off, her voice flat and emotionless. "He told me to come here, and I… I did what he told me to." Olivia raised her eyes to meet Huang's, and they were wet with tears. "George, why did I do what he told me to? Why didn't I fight back?" The words were barely more than a whisper.

Huang studied her carefully. "Olivia, who are you talking about?" he asked gently.

Her eyes were distant. "Harris," she finally managed. "I'm talking about Harris. I just wanted to forget. I wanted his voice to go away. But George, when it did, I realized that he was dead. Only it wasn't Harris." She finally raised her eyes to meet his. "It was Pasha."

* * *

"People always say you never forget your first case."

Elliot nodded and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee the waitress handed him. "It's true," he agreed softly.

Simone bit her lip. "Sometimes I wish I could." She reached across the table and poured a little bit of cream in her mug before continuing. "She was fifteen years old when I met her, but you would have never known it by looking at her." She laughed softly. "She had this combination of strength and vulnerability in her. I guess that's what it was that caught my attention."

Elliot's lips twisted upward in a wistful smile. Strength and vulnerability—that's what had drawn every one of them to her. That pure, raw need to protect what obviously never needed to be protected. Olivia Benson had always been able to handle herself. But there was something about her, about the quiet way she hid every secret of her past that seemed to scream the need to protect her from further pain.

"It was in the law library at Columbia," Simone continued. "I thought she was a freshman at the time." She sighed. "I guess she was a freshman—just a freshman in high school."

_Freshman. High school._ The words hit Elliot hard. _Sixteen._ Sixteen had sounded young, but not that young. Dickie and Elizabeth were sixteen. Elliot would personally throttle any man who tried to marry Elizabeth for at least another ten years. But sixteen was just a year shy of the age of consent. Sixteen was old enough to drive. Sixteen was old enough to give the illusion of independence and adulthood. But freshman in high school was an entirely different story. Freshman in high school was still a child.

"I figured I'd take her under my wing—you know, show her the ropes a little. But when she started to tell me her story… her story broke my heart." Simone drew in a deep breath. "Most people who find out they're the product of a rape go to the self-help section of the local book store. Olivia headed straight for the law library and knew the ins and outs of the entire law enforcement and legal process before she even stopped to consider how she felt about it."

Simone tore open a packet of sugar and dumped the contents into the mug in front of her. "I had Dr. Benson for one of my classes a few years before I met Olivia. She was a good professor, but she was extremely unpredictable. It was a long time before I found out why."

Elliot nodded. "You mean the drinking."

"Yeah." Simone watched in satisfaction as the sugar blended in with the rest of her coffee. Her eyes were suddenly distant. "I remember the first time I saw her after she'd been drinking. Olivia and I had been out for coffee, and I walked her home. She wouldn't let me walk her to the door, and I couldn't understand why. She dropped one of her gloves when she was rummaging around in her pocket for her keys, and she didn't even notice. I tried to call out to her, but she didn't hear me. So I decided to take it up to her apartment and give it to her in person."

Elliot swallowed hard. Olivia had told him about her mother—had confided bits and pieces of stories that were just enough to tell him that the damage she had done was far more than Olivia would ever dare admit aloud. But he'd never known the full truth, had never understood what it had been like for her.

"When I got to the door, I knocked, but nobody answered. That's when I heard her crying inside, and I thought something might be wrong." Simone closed her eyes. "I let myself in and found her in the kitchen. Her mother had passed out, and there was a broken bottle of liquor and an empty bottle of pills next to her." She swallowed hard. "I had no idea what was wrong, and Olivia was just numb. She said something about a phone in the bedroom and told me to call an ambulance. And when I got there, I saw…" Simone took a deep breath. "I saw a man passed out in her bed."

Elliot closed his eyes. "Simone, I…"

Simone drew her eyes up slowly. "I didn't realize that Olivia didn't even know who he was until after she had thrown him out of the house. Later when we were in the hospital, she told me her mother had a habit of bringing home perfect strangers. I guess that was Serena's way of dealing with her rape."

Elliot felt sick to his stomach. She had been fifteen years old. _Fifteen years old_ when she was forced to take on the responsibility of taking care of her mother. Fifteen years old when her knowledge of sex education had consisted of the men her mother brought home and the horror of her own existence. Fifteen years old when she was forced to grow up far beyond her years. Fifteen years old must have seemed like a lifetime to her. And all she had ever needed was someone to take care of her. All she had ever wanted was someone to love her. And he had tried to tell her that she was too young. He had tried to tell her she didn't know what love was.

"The hospital knew her by name," Simone continued softly. "They knew her mother by name. Elliot, I don't know how bad things ever were because Olivia never wanted to talk about it, but I'll never forget the things I saw. She was young, and maybe helping her to get married at the age of sixteen wasn't the best thing to do, but I didn't know what else to do."

"You tried to help her."

"I tried. You know I always wanted to be a criminal lawyer until the day I met her. But after seeing some of the things she went through, I knew I wanted to fight to protect children like her." Simone rolled her eyes. "People say I'm good at my job, but I can't help thinking it's never enough. I wanted so much to take away her pain. But there was nothing I could do to protect her from any of it."

Elliot hesitated. He knew, even before she said a word, the answer to his next question. "Things got worse from there, didn't they?"

Simone nodded. "Yeah, when Olivia met Stephen a little under a year later, he saw what her home life was like and asked her to move in with him. I know it sounds like he was trying to take advantage of her, Elliot, but he really just wanted to take care of her. I think in his own way, he loved her."

"What happened when her mother found out?"

"Serena was furious. She tried to kick him out of college. When their fights turned violent, Olivia ran out. She came to me in a panic and asked for my help."

"So you helped them get a marriage license past the judge?" Elliot asked gently.

Simone nodded. "Yes, but New York marriage laws are more stringent than those in Jersey. I suggested they apply for the license there instead."

"What do you mean the marriage laws in Jersey are…" And before he could finish his sentence, it hit him. He caught his breath and stared back at the knowing look in her eyes.

_And suddenly he realized the truth._

The emotions that followed were far more than he could ever identify—grief, loss, and yet, a glimmer of hope. Because suddenly he realized that Olivia hadn't hidden the truth from him at all. She had tried to tell him over and over again. And he should have known. But he hadn't heard her. He hadn't listened. Olivia had given him the truth in the only way that she knew how. He had just never realized it until now.

"Simone, the accident… What happened after the accident?"

"She'd only been married four months when it happened. There was a winter storm warning that night, and the roads were icy. But Stephen was worried about her so he insisted on driving." Simone's eyes shimmered with tears. "Elliot, she lost everything that night. And to this day, Olivia's never been able to stop blaming herself for it."

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note:

_I want to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far for keeping me going. This next chapter has been a difficult one for me to write. I guess there's something to be said for taking chances, and that's definitely what this chapter is for me._

_With that being said, I want to preface this by letting you know that the end of this chapter beginning with the section in italics deals pretty heavily with what happened to Olivia in Undercover. A lot of people come to SVU for different reasons. If you are a survivor of sexual assault, only you can decide if you are ready to read this. If you do decide to go ahead and read it, I hope that my words will do justice to what many (but not all) survivors of sexual assault have experienced. If you are not ready to read this, but you still want to continue to follow this story, feel free to PM me, and I'd be happy to share with you what you missed._

_And finally, thanks to Holly for her amazing video, Hello-SVU Olivia Benson. You truly were the inspiration behind this chapter. _

* * *

Chapter 14

* * *

"All right, what's the prognosis?"

Huang hesitated. "Not good, Alex. I underestimated the extent of trauma from what happened at Sealview." He sighed. "She's dissociating."

"What do you mean she's dissociating? That can't be good." Alex froze midway through jotting down a note in the file in front of her. She set her pen down and looked up at Huang, a frown darkening her face.

"It's not," he confirmed quietly. "Unless you're going for an affirmative defense."

Alex shook her head. "Won't work, George. Olivia refuses to testify. I need her to corroborate that on the stand in order to make it hold up in front of a jury." She sighed reluctantly.

He studied her for a long moment before he finally spoke. "Alex, Olivia says she doesn't remember what happened." He swallowed hard. "I don't think she's lying. I'm not sure that she knows what happened in that house. And short of a sodium amytal session, I don't see that changing as long as she's locked up at Sealview. She's reliving her assault every day. As long as she's under those conditions, we're not going to get anything out of her. She's too traumatized."

"So what you're saying is we might never know." Alex nodded. "All right, in your professional opinion, what do _you_ think?"

"Well, what do we know about her family?" Huang inquired gently.

Alex sighed. "Not much. Cragen and Fin are convinced that the mother is innocent and Munch says there's no way it could be the younger sister. Which leaves us with Regina. If she doesn't turn out to be a viable suspect, I'm running out of options."

George averted his eyes away from hers. "There is one other option you're not considering," he announced quietly.

Alex's eyes widened. Her voice was hesitant when she spoke. "George, are you telling me there's a possibility that Olivia's guilty?"

He nodded soberly. "More than a possibility, Alex. If she had either a flashback or a dissociative episode, Olivia may not have known what she was doing until it was too late."

* * *

Her eyelids felt heavy.

It was ironic really. Eyelids weren't meant to be heavy. And yet, somehow it seemed fitting that they were. Every muscle in her body felt heavy. They screamed at her for relief, for a sense of reprieve from this endless nightmare. But it was in sleep that the real nightmares began. It was in sleep that protecting herself against vulnerability became obsolete.

As long as she didn't sleep, she would be fine. There was a twisted logic to it somehow. Two thirds of all sexual assaults took place between the hours of 6 pm and 6 am. If she could just make it through to 6 am, she could make it through another day.

_At least that's what she needed to keep telling herself._

Once 6 am rolled around, she'd have to search for some new mantra to get her through the rest of the day. On the other hand, maybe if she let herself fall asleep, she could try to forget all of it for just a few moments. Anything had to be easier than this.

A voice floated up from below her. "You still awake, Fish?"

Olivia allowed her eyes to flutter shut. "Yeah, Shawna. I'm here."

And that was when she heard it.

It started as a dull clang, the sound of metal against metal. And slowly it began to build until it took over her ability to control her own body. _Control._ How is it that a lifetime of fighting to achieve such an abstract construct could somehow render her so powerless now?

Olivia felt numbness settle in, felt her lungs gasping to draw in a shaky breath of air against the pure weight of the unknown. She felt the rhythm of her own heartbeat in a desperate race against time. And her knees instinctively jerked forward to her chest, her arms drawn closely around her body as if to offer some sort of protection. Olivia needed to hide, needed to escape the stifling walls closing in around her.

It was cold, the thinning gray scrap of fleece drawn around her trembling body offering little sense of protection. But then again, an entire box of the damn blankets hadn't managed to conceal her presence from Harris in that basement. How could one solitary blanket possibly provide any more security?

Slowly, Olivia realized that she wasn't really cold; she was sweating. That's what was making her so cold. And suddenly she couldn't breathe anymore. Because she could feel his touch, his scent still burned into the orange jumpsuit now clinging to every curve of her body. Olivia ducked her head toward her chest, feeling the shame sweep over her again. She needed to get these clothes off of her, needed to erase all semblance of their existence.

Shawna's voice called out to her again. "You still kickin' yourself for what happened with Harris?"

Olivia nodded imperceptibly, knowing full well that Shawna would never be able to see her.

Shawna took her lack of response as a silent confirmation. Her voice softened slightly. "You fight it, and it just gets worse," she called out quietly. "They're gonna take what they want whether you fight it or not. You might as well get used to it and at least get somethin' out of it."

It was coming closer, the clanging pausing briefly from one cell to the next as Parker contemplated his prey for the evening.

Shawna's voice called out louder now. "Hey, CO. You got a smoke?"

Olivia held her breath as the clanging stilled and the sound of approaching footsteps closed in upon her. Parker stopped outside of the cell. "Maybe, come with me," he commanded, sliding the door open.

Shawna drew herself up to her feet, casting a sideways glance back at Olivia. "I'll give you one more night off, Fish," she whispered quietly. "But after that, you'll have to pull your own weight around here." She turned back toward Parker, a smirk crossing over her face. "It's gonna cost you."

* * *

"What are our chances, Alex?"

Alex eyed Cragen warily. "Do you want me to make you feel better, or do you want the truth, Don?"

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "I'd love for you to make me feel better, but somehow I don't see that happening anytime soon." He sighed. "Just give it to me straight."

"All right," Alex agreed. She took a deep breath. "Olivia wants to plead out the case."

Cragen's head shot up. "Alex, you can't let her do that. You've got to fight this for her."

"Do you honestly think I want her to plead this out? Don, I'm fighting to stay above water here. I was hoping you'd have something to offer me."

"I'm afraid you're not getting much help on our end," Cragen admitted reluctantly. "If you've got some brilliant legal maneuver stashed away, Councilor, now's the time to show your cards."

Alex hesitated. "I only wish it were that easy. Petrovsky is our trial judge." She took a deep breath. "Don, I know you've heard the old adage—what goes around comes around." She closed her eyes. "With Petrovsky, that might not be such a good thing."

Cragen's face paled as he studied her for a long moment. Finally, it sank in. "The Roy Barnett case." His words were suddenly quiet. "Don't tell me that Petrovsky is still holding a grudge with you over that?"

Alex nodded silently. "All I wanted to do was help Sam Cavanaugh find justice. But after that case, Petrovsky told me that I'd done a real disservice in her courtroom. She said she was never going to forget it." Alex raised her eyes to meet Cragen's before continuing. "She's already under political pressure to convict and close this case as soon as possible. Don, even if Olivia was cooperating, things are not looking good."

"So what happens next?"

Alex sighed. "Olivia is slated to appear before Petrovsky tomorrow morning at 8 am. She wants to plead guilty. That gives you approximately nine hours to come up with something concrete to change her mind."

"And if we aren't able to find anything?" Cragen's voice held an uncertainty she had never heard before.

Alex lowered her eyes. "After that, there's only one thing left to do. It's our only shot, but I guarantee you that nobody is going to like it, myself included."

Cragen swallowed hard. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'll need you to make a phone call to the corrections commissioner." Alex took a deep breath. "Don, do you trust me?"

* * *

"I can take it from here."

Olivia felt his touch burning into her skin before she saw his face. And she knew who it was without even looking up. He pulled her closer, a little too close. Closer than was necessary, but to all outside appearances, there was nothing in his touch, in his words that spoke the interior dialogue racing through her head. And yet the look in his eyes said otherwise.

"You know there's something challenging about taking on what Harris left unfinished," he growled softly in her ear. "Really, almost better than if I'd had the chance the first time around."

His words were the only thing that managed to penetrate the barrier she had built around herself. Panic gripped her as her feet stumbled forward against his rough movement. Her eyes searched the courthouse. Somebody had to hear him, had to know what it was that his words seemed to suggest. But her only response was the quiet murmur around the courtroom.

Olivia raised her head up slowly, her eyes seeking out somebody, anybody she knew. Elliot sat across the courtroom from her. She swallowed hard. Elliot knew her, knew how to read her. Even from across the room, one look into her eyes, and he would understand. She turned toward him, begging him, pleading for him to help her.

The cold, unemotional stare back forced tears to her eyes. She blinked hard. Elliot didn't move, didn't make any effort to come to her rescue. He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned back in his chair before ducking his eyes away from her. Olivia turned back to Alex. As they quietly moved forward, she had to hear the words Parker was screaming out in her ear. But Alex's back was to her, unloading a stack of paperwork from her briefcase, her movement giving no indication that she even acknowledged their presence.

Parker smirked back in satisfaction. "You think in a crowded courthouse somebody's really going to hear what I'm saying to you. You might be more fun than I thought." He watched her reaction with amusement. "Don't worry," he assured her softly. "I've already clocked the trip back from the courthouse. Nobody will even notice you're missing for a good long time if I say we hit traffic."

His eyes captured her, enthralled her really. She couldn't escape the penetrating glare within them. She couldn't escape the words that echoed through the depths of the courtroom, releasing images that desperately needed to remain buried.

"I understand that we may have a change of plea." Lena Petrovsky peered over at the defense table, her eyes settling on Alex. "Is that correct, Ms. Cabot?"

Olivia's knees somehow buckled beneath her and she sank into the chair. She never heard the words. She stared straight ahead, the only movement, her futile attempts to blink back the tears threatening to spill forward. The courtroom in front of her blurred, and she searched desperately for something, anything concrete to pull her back to reality.

After a moment, she realized that Alex was speaking to her, but the words barely registered. "Olivia, are you sure this is what you want to do? We're talking about fifteen to life here. Are you really ready for that?" Alex took a deep breath. "Once you make up your mind, there's no way out."

_You little bitch. There's no way out._

And suddenly, the image in front of her slowly came into focus.

_He was walking beside her, and yet somehow she wasn't really there. Olivia watched each step as if it were suspended in time. She matched his stride, each and every step forward carrying her a little further toward the stack of mattresses lying on the ground waiting for her. Every footstep seemed to echo a little bit louder within her sub consciousness, drowning out her protests, her cries, her seemingly inaudible screams for help. Olivia struggled for a breath of air. Somehow if she could force more air into her lungs, Fin might be able to hear her._

_And yet his eyes told her that no one ever would. A cold, manipulative glow emanated from their depths. They encouraged her to scream, encouraged her to cry, encouraged her to fight. The terror reflected in her every protest fed his need for control, his need to dominate._

_Rational told her all of this. She had spent ten years trying to understand that impulse within them. Rational told her to stop encouraging him with every cry that escaped from her lips. It was the fight that turned him on. And yet, somehow her body's instinct to survive overcame all sense of reason._

_His fingers were rough, calloused as he pulled her face toward him. The muscles in her neck caved in to his demands, and Olivia felt her heart sink a little further at her body's betrayal. _

"Ms. Cabot, I hope you're not here to waste the court's time. Now is your client pleading guilty or not?"

Alex turned back toward Olivia, noting the far-off, glossy expression in her eyes with a mixture of emotions. The pen in her hand clattered onto the table and rolled off to the side as Alex held up a hand to Petrovsky to give her a moment. "Olivia," she ventured softly.

_The noise was deafening. The clatter ringing out announcing his presence, announcing her inability to hide from him. The sound the baton made as it crushed her rib. The creak of the mattress beneath her as she lost her ability to maintain her own footing and became victim to his every demand._

_And yet, somehow none of those seemed louder than the strangled cries that escaped her throat, than the sound of his zipper as it creaked open. Olivia turned her head away, focusing her gaze on the mole marring his body. It was easier to see a mole than the epitomes of the one thing she had managed to confront and run away from her entire life._

_Her strangled cries did little to stop him. Stop him from forcing her jaw open. Stop him from moving closer. Stop him from pinning her against the wall in front of him as his body rocked rhythmically against her every protest. _

"Olivia, what's happening?" Alex's words were suddenly frightened. She heard Olivia's shattered attempts to pull in a breath of air, watched her body as it began to tremble. Alex shot an alarmed look over to where Huang was already rising rapidly toward them.

_Olivia, what happened in the basement?_

_From somewhere far away, the words permeated her consciousness in time with the belt that was torn from his body. The belt fell to the floor as Elliot's voice warped from one of concern to one whose words were full of accusation. He had tried to warn her. Cragen had even told her it was a suicide mission. That she didn't belong there. Some false sense of security, some flawed sense of pride had crushed those words and gone in anyway._

_As Harris' fingers closed around her wrist, Olivia realized that Cragen had been right about everything except for one thing...she did belong there. It was where she had always belonged. It was only fitting that someone who had caused such intense heartache to her own mother should experience it herself. _

A light shone in her eyes. "Olivia?" Huang ventured softly. He knelt down beside her, his voice softening slightly. "Her pupils are dilated. She's having a flashback. Give her some room," he instructed quietly. He turned back toward her. "Olivia, you're in the courtroom. Olivia, look at me. Come on, look at me. It's George. It's not Harris."

_The light was gone, but somehow it was still blinding her. Harris stood in front of her, the shadow of his figure commanding her presence. Olivia felt trapped, helpless. She tried to run, tried to escape. But it was always a dead end. The door stood before her as if mocking her with its cold bars of imprisonment. Her palms stung with something akin to a numb awareness that pain was attached to her movement as she beat incessantly against it, begging for someone, anyone to help her._

_But who would help her? Olivia felt the sting from the hand that swept across her face, felt him pulling her back and pinning her against the door. And suddenly a part of her gave in, accepted the inevitability of her fate. Nobody was coming to help her. Nor did she deserve their help._

_It was her fault. Vaguely, she tried to remember if she had left the top button of her shirt undone after she had left the courtyard earlier that day. Shawna had told her that was how to get their attention. She had listened, needing to somehow get closer to Ashley's rapist. She hadn't realized how close._

_And yet, maybe a part of her had. Maybe a part of her had needed to understand what her mother and every woman who had ever come into the squad room had been through. Otherwise she would have never let him take her down there. She would have never left the top button undone. She would have never let him touch her._

"Olivia, listen to me. You're in the courthouse. You are not in the basement. Olivia, it's George. I need you to feel your feet on the ground. Feel your fingers on the table in front of you. You're sitting at a table in the courthouse." Tentatively George reached forward to touch her arm.

The movement startled her back to reality. Olivia blinked hard. She felt her chest heaving with sobs devoid of any tears. Because everything inside of her had dried up. Her ability to feel anything had dissipated into nothing more than a distant memory. And the only thing left was an all-consuming numbness—a numbness full of portraits, of pictures, of words, and actions cycling through endlessly in a way that left her unable to discern between memories of her attack and the present time. She could still see his face in front of her—Harris, Parker…the faces before her blended seamlessly from one to another until suddenly Olivia had no idea who it was she was running from anymore.

"Order, order," Petrovsky commanded, slamming her gavel down to quiet the courtroom.

Alex drew herself up to her feet slowly. When she found her voice, she tried to control the tremble found within it. "Your Honor, may we approach the bench?"

Petrovsky's eyes bored into hers. "A wise decision, Ms. Cabot," she announced dryly. She nodded to both counsels to come closer. As they came within earshot, Petrovsky moved her hand to cover the mic in front of her. "I'm going to save both of you the trouble here. Now I don't know what's going on, but Alex, I suggest you determine what your client wants to do and make sure she's ready for trial by tomorrow morning at 8 am."

Alex nodded numbly, stepping back away from the bench. "Thank you, your Honor."

Petrovsky nodded back in response. "Court is adjourned. We'll pick this up tomorrow morning." She slammed the gavel down and the courtroom whirred to life.

Alex had just started to turn back around when she froze in place at the sight in front of her. Matthew Parker was pulling Olivia's hands behind her back and pushing her toward the door.

The strangled cry that escaped froze everyone in the courtroom. And as everyone around her watched, Olivia felt her knees collapse beneath her, felt her body convulse inward as her knees jerked toward her chest to protect her. The arms that reached toward her were rough—tearing into her, violating her, forcing her into resignation.

She wanted them to stop. She needed them to stop. "Please, don't." The words were a helpless cry that died the moment it hit her lips. How could she possibly expect those words to protect her now when they had done so little to protect her before?

Suddenly Elliot was beside her, pulling Parker away from her. As Fin moved forward to restrain him, Parker's eyes stared back at her, a flash of amusement at her inability to fight back, her inability to protect herself.

_This was recovery._

Olivia wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to disappear into a hole and never come out again. It had been nine months. Nine months and yet the absolute terror gripping her now, the vivid images rushing forth felt like only yesterday. And suddenly it was Parker, not Harris standing in front of her. Parker's arms upon her. Parker's body standing over her. And she was helpless to fight back.

"Olivia, it's okay." The voice, the arms circling around her and pulling her to her feet were suddenly familiar. Olivia opened her eyes and saw the tears within Elliot's eyes. "Olivia, it's me."

"Order!" Petrovsky's gavel came down again. She turned toward the commotion centered around Olivia. "I'm remanding the defendant to Belleview and ordering a 730 exam."

Cragen stepped forward quickly. "Your Honor, I'll take her there myself."

Petrovsky nodded curtly in Cragen's direction. As he moved toward Olivia, she motioned over to Alex. "Alex, do you care to tell me why your client has not already been evaluated by a trained psychologist?"

Alex cleared her throat. "My client had indicated to me that she did not wish to pursue an affirmative defense. There was no need for the exam."

Petrovsky's eyes narrowed. "Ms. Cabot, I am not about to put a defendant who is clearly unstable through a trial until I am fully aware of her mental state. Now I suggest you follow up on the results of the exam and let me know where we stand first thing in the morning. Is that clear?"

"Yes, your Honor," Alex managed quietly.

"Good. Dismissed." As Petrovsky stood up and moved toward the door to her chambers, Alex turned back around. Elliot was waiting for her at the defense table.

"Well, you got what you wanted," he snapped, his voice low. "Tell me, Alex. Did it work? Did it make you feel better?" The anger pulsed through his veins as he glared back at her.

Alex drew her head up wearily. "Elliot, she's going to Belleview, not Sealview," she managed quietly. She took a deep breath. "I thought that was what we wanted."

Elliot whipped around and started toward the door. He was halfway there before he stilled. He turned back around to confront her. "What _we_ wanted! Alex, you just re-victimized her all over again. _You_ put her through that."

"No, Elliot. Lowell Harris put her through that. I didn't sexually assault her, and I sure as hell didn't rape her. But that's exactly what would have happened if we'd sent her back to Sealview."

Elliot stared back at her sullenly, the truth behind her words undeniable. He crossed his arms in front of him, his mind searching for some words to refute her claim.

Alex's voice softened. "Elliot, Olivia doesn't need any of us to fight about what's best for her. But she sure as hell could use your help. Now I know you're upset by what you just saw, and I don't blame you. But blaming me is not going to make a difference. Now, _we_ are on the same team here. Try to remember that."

She scooped up her briefcase and started toward the door. Suddenly she hesitated. She turned back around to face him slowly. "Elliot, Olivia needs you right now. She needs you to understand her, not judge her."

He nodded wordlessly and before she could say another word, he silently disappeared outside the courtroom. As soon as he crossed into the bitter cold outside, his whispered response was swept away by the wind.

"I know."

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

* * *

"Any word yet on Olivia?"

Fin shook his head solemnly and without even looking up, he reached up to take the cup of coffee Munch was extending toward him. "No," he managed. He pressed the cup to his lips and forced the bitter liquid down his throat. His shoulders rolled forward in resignation and all sarcastic comments regarding Munch's inability to make coffee died within him.

"It's not as bad as it could have been," Munch offered, perching on the edge of his desk. He glanced back at Elliot. "Right?"

Elliot stared back at the file in front of him, a file that he had randomly pulled out of his desk drawer in an effort to give the appearance of working. Or maybe it had been to convince himself he was capable of working. Either way, it didn't seem to make a difference. He wasn't fooling any of them, and he sure as hell wasn't fooling himself. He sighed. "That's easy enough for you to say, John. She wasn't looking at you for help in that courtroom." He swallowed hard. "You're not the one who had to pretend to ignore her. Don't tell me it could have been worse."

Elliot stood up, slamming the file back down on his desk and headed for the bank of lockers. He reached for the key in his pocket and opened the door carefully. As it swung open, he stared within it. He had no idea what he was looking for. All he knew was that he needed to get a grip on his emotions before he turned back around.

The sound of a phone ringing shattered the silence in the bullpen. Munch reached for the receiver on his desk as Cragen silently approached all of them. He waited until Munch hung up the phone before speaking. "Regina and Hannah are back at their apartment," he began quietly.

Fin swallowed hard. "I'm on it, Captain." He turned toward his partner.

Munch hesitated. "That was O'Halloran. He finally managed to piece the lamp together. He said he has something we need to see." He turned toward Cragen. "Where do you want me, Captain?"

Cragen nodded slowly. "With Fin. I want the two of you to pay the Leawoods a visit. Elliot, go talk to O'Halloran and find out what's going on there. I'm going to call Alex again and check on Olivia. I'll let you know if I hear anything." As he stood up and started to turn around, he sensed Elliot's eyes burning into his back. He turned around slowly. "Elliot, is there something else?"

Elliot swallowed hard. "Why are you benching me, Captain?"

"I'm not exactly putting you on desk duty, Detective. I'm sending you to the crime lab to get evidence. Nobody sweats the details like you do, and right now we need that," Cragen responded, his tone suddenly brisk.

"You normally send Munch to sweat the details," Elliot countered. He met Cragen's eyes for the first time. "So why the sudden change of heart, Captain?"

There was only the slightest hesitation before Cragen responded. He spoke slowly, carefully choosing each and every word. "Elliot, this is delicate territory for all of us. We only have one chance to get those girls to talk. Now I can't take the chance that you'll…"

"That I'll want, Captain…blow the investigation?" Elliot glared back at him. "I know how to do my job, and if you think for just one moment I don't then I don't know what I'm doing here."

"Elliot, you're one of my best detectives."

"You're right. And I am perfectly capable of separating out my emotions in order to do my job. I don't need a babysitter, and I sure as hell don't need busy work," Elliot shot back. Without another word, he whipped around, slamming the still open door to his locker shut before turning to the coat rack. He grabbed his coat and was reaching forward a second time when he froze.

_There was nothing there._

Of course there was nothing there. There was no reason for there to be anything there. Because Olivia's coat was probably somewhere at Sealview right about now. Or left abandoned in her apartment. The tears he had been fighting back since earlier that morning in the courtroom sprang to his eyes. Elliot turned abruptly, rushing past Cragen in a never-ending battle to win some sense of control over the whirlwind of emotions that never seemed to let up.

Cragen watched him go, his heart falling just a little bit further as he watched the expression on Elliot's face melt from one of fierce determination to that of complete and utter despair. Cragen slid down into the chair beside him and felt his eyes sweep across the bullpen until finally they settled on her desk. It was untouched, completely devoid of its usual clutter—a sign of someone who had turned in her resignation from the unit. A sign of someone who had given up all hope. A sign of someone who wouldn't be coming back.

Cragen stood up again and moved toward her desk slowly. He reached inside the drawer to his left, searching for something, anything to fill the void left in his heart. The Laurel Andrews file was on top. He pulled it out now and carefully set it in the middle of her desk. Without thinking he fumbled around until he found her favorite retractable pen in her top drawer—the kind whose incessant clicking only served to unnerve each and every perpetrator sitting across the interrogation room from her. A slight smile crossed over his face, and he headed toward the coffee station. Gingerly he removed her favorite green coffee mug. It had been a long time since she had used it—a long time since any of them had used it. They had long since given up on the luxury of staying put long enough to warrant the use of a real coffee mug in between trips out the door to their next case. He carried it back to her desk now, sliding it over to its usual spot.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before turning back toward his own office. He didn't even hear the door fall shut behind him. His footsteps were quiet as he approached his own desk, sliding back down into his chair. Cragen stared straight ahead in front of him without really seeing anything. Absent-mindedly, he picked up the phone and dialed the number he had committed to memory. There was no answer at the other end. He allowed the receiver to drop back down in its cradle. And he waited…waited for the phone to ring, waited for the knock to come at the door. Anything had to be better than this.

He allowed his head to drop forward in his hands, and Cragen fought back the tidal wave of emotions assaulting him. He couldn't allow any of them to see that he was wavering at a time where they desperately needed consistency and strength. They needed him right now—needed him to be strong, needed him to be resilient. They needed him to give them answers. Answers he didn't have the slightest idea how to find. Cragen blinked hard. But he needed to find them, needed to find something. Because without them, he was afraid of where that left him. Afraid of where that left any of them.

His reverie was shattered by the piercing shrill of the phone at the end of his desk. And Cragen hesitated. As much as he needed answers, a part of him was afraid of the truth that would be revealed when he found them. With his hands trembling ever so slightly, he reached forward toward the phone. His eyes slid shut as he pulled the receiver toward him, and the words that escaped his lips was suddenly tentative, quiet, devoid of its usual authority.

"Captain Cragen."

He barely heard the words on the other end of the line. His gaze softened, focusing on the edge of his desk in an effort to block out the whispered words that took over instead.

_Yes, I killed him. I'm sorry._

He closed his eyes to block out the absolute terror he had seen reflected in her eyes as she had stepped forward. A terror that swan within pools of tears she had tried to hide from him as she turned her back.

_Go ahead, Captain._

And that was when it hit him. Cragen's breath caught in his throat as his eyes snapped open, the image in front of him coming into focus. He staggered up to his feet, stumbling for his keys. He pulled them out, separating a single key out from the others. And he opened the top drawer to his desk. It was there waiting for him—the answer he had been seeking, the answer he had needed. And yet suddenly he had no idea what to do with it.

Suddenly Cragen realized that the phone was still dangling from his hand. He drew it back to his ear and took a deep breath. "Alex, listen I'll call you back later. I need to get down to the lab. There may be a break in the case."

He didn't bother to wait for her response before slamming the phone back down on the cradle. His feet propelled him forward in a sudden quest for the truth. As the door slammed shut behind him, he only hoped that it was a truth he could handle.

* * *

"Thanks for meeting me here, Liz."

Elizabeth Donnelly turned toward Alex with a scowl. "Well, nice of you to call me and tell me you were back in town. Forget that you neglected to mention the fact that you were still alive."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, a little grieving never hurt anyone." She took a sip out of the glass of wine in front of her and set the glass down on the table as she considered her next words. "Besides, I didn't exactly need to listen to you weave a little tale of I told you so's," she returned with a sigh.

"If you didn't come here for me to tell you 'I told you so', then why are you here, Alex?"

"I'm back at SVU, Liz." Alex hesitated. She took a deep breath. "Just on the other side of the table."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "You're defending Olivia Benson."

"I'm trying to." Alex sighed. "It's not going well."

"Why not? I heard she had a complete meltdown in court this morning. That should help set you up for a good psych defense."

"It would if she would allow me to use it. Liz, I set her up for that. I drove her to that meltdown. If I hadn't convinced Cragen to call the corrections commissioner and arrange to have Mathew Parker escort her back and forth to the courthouse, none of that would have ever happened." Alex averted her eyes away from the sharp gaze that followed her. She bit her lip.

Elizabeth nodded. "It sounds like that's exactly what you wanted to happen. Alex, you did your job. Your hands were tied, and you untied them. So why are you second guessing yourself now?"

"Because I turned her into a victim, Liz."

Elizabeth's eyes twinkled, and her mouth curved upward in what could only pass for a hint of a smile. "Careful, Alex. You're starting to sound a little soft."

Alex sighed. "Yeah, well, a couple years in the witness protection program will do that to you."

The smile on Elizabeth's face vanished. She reached for the stem of the wine glass in front of her spinning it absent-mindedly as her gaze turned back over across the table. "You know SVU is still just as gray as you left it," she added wryly. She nodded succinctly, her eyes narrowing slightly. "So tell me, what exactly is it that you're really worried about, Alexandra?"

"Liz, I don't know if she's guilty or not."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, the expression on her face suddenly amused. "That's where you're still thinking like a prosecutor, Alex. It doesn't matter if she's guilty or not. That's a distinction for the jury to make. All you have to do is give them reasonable doubt."

"It's a little tough to give them reasonable doubt with a guilty plea. And Liz, I am not going to just stand there and let her plead guilty to a crime she may not have committed!"

"Then I suggest you figure out how to do otherwise…and quickly." Elizabeth set down the glass in her hands back on the edge of the table. "So what's your next move?"

Alex stared back for a long moment. Finally, she drew out a long breath. "That's just it, Liz," she returned softly. "I don't have one."

* * *

"I'm not talking to you."

The door slammed shut and Munch traded a look with his partner. "Fine, we'll just hang out here until you're ready to talk then."

"Yeah," Fin agreed quickly. "We've got nothing better to do."

The door opened again quickly, and Regina blew out the breath she had been holding. "I don't need you talking to all of our neighbors," she hissed. She glanced over her shoulder, and reluctantly pushed the door open a little further.

Munch took that as his invitation to come in and stepped inside, watching as Fin followed a step behind him. "For someone who came asking for our help before, you don't seem all that receptive to it now."

"Yeah, well I asked for your help, and you threw my aunt in jail!" Regina shot back.

"Whoa, wait a minute," Fin interrupted. He glanced back at her. "We're not trying to get Olivia in trouble. We're here to try to help her."

Regina crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because we've never lied to you yet," Munch returned.

"Yes, you did." Hannah's voice was quiet when she spoke. All three of them whirled around to face her. "This whole thing started when you told me you needed to talk to me about Olivia," she accused, directing her focus toward Munch.

He sighed. "I'm sorry about that. But right now, all I want to do is help her. Now I need you to answer a couple of questions about what happened that day after you left the squad room."

Hannah took another step closer and nodded. "Fine," she returned quietly. "What do you want to know?"

"Hannah," Regina hissed. She glared at her sister.

Hannah turned back toward her sister. "Regina, I have nothing to hide." She took a deep breath. "If you think that I did something to hurt Pasha, you're wrong. I loved him, and I would have never killed him." Her eyes filled with tears.

"Where did you go when you left the precinct?" Munch asked gently.

"Olivia took us back to her apartment," Regina interrupted. Her eyes darting over to theirs quickly. She took a deep breath. "We sat down to talk for a little while, and when we were done, she took us home."

"What time was that?" Fin demanded softly.

"I don't know. I didn't look at a clock."

"Okay, then how long were you with Olivia?" Munch attempted.

"A couple of hours." Regina sighed. "Why does it matter how long we were there?"

"When we got back home, Regina went back to work, and I went back to class," Hannah offered quickly. She sighed. "I was at the studio for the rest of the day. When Regina got off of work, she took me to an outpatient treatment center that Olivia had recommended." She lowered her gaze. "I've been seeing a doctor there who is trying to help me."

Munch turned toward Regina, his eyes narrowing. "Is that what happened, Regina?" He studied her face carefully. "Keep in mind, our next stop is to check on your alibi."

Regina's eyes were suddenly filled with panic. "Please don't do that."

Hannah's head snapped up. "Regina, what are you saying?" Hannah drew in a shaky breath.

Fin nodded quickly, catching Munch's eye. "All right, why don't we start with the truth. Where'd you go after you left your sister?"

Regina crossed the room and picked up a stack of papers. She tossed a blue packet at them. "I've been summoned as a witness to testify against Olivia," she began quietly. She drew her eyes up to meet theirs. "I'm not telling you, and I sure as hell am not telling them anything that may hurt her. Olivia may not have always been around for us, but when it really mattered, she was always here. I'm not going to be the one to send her to jail."

Hannah turned to her in confusion. "Regina, what are you talking about?"

Fin moved over on the couch next to her. His voice was gentle when he spoke. "Regina, the last thing we want to do is see Olivia go down for what happened to Pasha. Now I need you to tell me the truth so I can help her."

Regina nodded in return. "Okay," she whispered. She took a deep breath. "When we were over at Olivia's apartment, she went into the bedroom to get something. I…I saw the case file on her desk, and I took it." She raised a tear-stained face up and her lower lip trembled. "All I wanted was his address. I wanted to tell him to stop hurting my sister."

"Go on," Fin encouraged her softly.

"But when I got there, the door was open. I let myself in the brownstone, but then I heard fighting in the other room, and I was afraid that he would come out and find me. I didn't want him to hurt me too."

"So you shot him?" Munch probed gently.

Her eyes widened. "Of course not. I don't know how to fire a gun. I didn't want him to see me there so I tried to find someplace I could hide. But the door to the basement was locked so I hid inside a closet instead."

"So what'd you hear while you were hiding inside the closet?" Fin prompted her.

"I couldn't really make out anything they were saying, and then everything got quiet. I waited a couple of minutes until I thought it was safe to come out, but then I heard the gunshot." Regina closed her eyes. "It was so loud. I didn't know what to do."

"So what did you do?" Munch encouraged her gently, suddenly dreading her response. Because it wasn't the words that spilled forth that caused his heart to sink a little bit further. It was the truth reflected on her face as she spoke them. It was the need to protect the unspoken that conveyed far more than her words ever could. And it was the way she lifted up her chin and fought for control over her emotions that was strangely familiar.

"I don't know how long I stood there. I was too afraid to come out. But then I started to worry that whoever shot him might come find me too. When I finally built up enough courage to leave the closet, I…" She brushed away the tear that snaked down her face and lifted her chin defiantly. "I tried not to look, but I couldn't stop myself."

"Regina, this is really important. What did you see?" Munch demanded.

She shook her head. "No, I can't." Her eyes were pleading with them. "Please, I didn't see anything."

Fin's voice was soft and gentle. "Regina, we know you just want to help her, but we need to know the truth. Now tell me who you saw in the living room."

She raised a tear-stained face up carefully, her words halting as she spoke. "I…saw…Olivia." Her shoulders crumbled forward as she dissolved into tears. "She had a…a gun in her… hand and she was…leaning over…the…body."

"What happened next, Regina?"

Regina drew in a shaky breath and fought for control over her voice. "I didn't recognize the look on her face when she saw me there. She told me to leave. I didn't know what else to do so I listened to her. Please…please don't make me testify against her. She was just trying to protect us. She didn't mean to do it."

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

* * *

"Tell me it's not true."

Olivia raised her eyes to meet his and hesitated at the uncertainty within them. "El, I'm sorry. I would have told you, but I…it's complicated."

When he spoke, his voice was filled with emotion. "Complicated. That's all you can tell me. Olivia, the sentencing hearing is tomorrow morning."

"I know." Olivia closed her eyes to block out the hurt reflected in his face. "Elliot, what do you want from me?"

He stared back at her silently. Finally he drew in a shaky breath. "Just tell me why, Liv. Tell me why you pled guilty."

"Extreme emotional disturbance," she returned softly. "El, they offered to plead me down to first degree manslaughter. It was the right thing to do."

"The right thing for whom, Liv? That's a B felony conviction. You're not just talking about five to twenty-five years of your life. You're talking about your job, your pension, your future."

"Don't you think I know that?" Olivia interrupted him. She drew in a quick breath and struggled to keep her voice even, struggled to fight the tears burning behind her eyelids. "Don't you think I've thought this through? It's too late, El. I'm sorry."

"It's not too late. Goddamn it, Olivia. Just look at me." His voice faltered as he searched for her eyes. He needed her to know, needed her to somehow understand. "For once in your life, will you stop trying to be so damn strong?"

Olivia raised her head slowly. She held his unwavering gaze and when she spoke, her voice was trembling. "What are you talking about, El?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you'd rather go to prison than put any of us through a trial. I'm talking about you sitting in jail to protect your niece from going through what happened to you at Sealview. Liv, I'm talking about the fact that you won't tell me what you've been through because you're so damn determined to protect me from it." Elliot swallowed the knot in his throat. "Just for once tell me that you have doubts too. Because Liv, I'm sitting here thinking I'm not strong enough to do this without you, and you're too damn strong to do it with me. And I can't take that."

Olivia stared back at him, stared back at the desperation, the anguish within his eyes. She forced herself to look at him, forced herself to see what it was that she was doing to him. And suddenly she felt completely lost. "El, I don't know who I am anymore," she admitted softly. The first tear slowly slid down her cheek. "Even if it's sitting inside a jail cell for the next ten years, at least this way I have time to figure that out. For as long as I can remember, there's been something inside of me that can't let go of this job. But now, I can't go back. El, I don't know how to separate who I am from what happened to me. And I don't know…I don't know how to handle that."

"Liv, sometimes it's okay not to have all the answers. But don't give up on me now. You don't have to go through this alone." His voice was raw with emotion, his eyes latching on to hers, pulling her toward him in the only way that he knew how.

"Elliot, I can't be objective anymore. I see bits and pieces of what happened at Sealview in every single case. And I don't know how to get past that."

"Then stop trying." He drew in a shaky breath. "Liv, you're trying to be something you're not. In ten and a half years, you've never been objective on a case yet. Your past has always been a part of how you view this job. And that's not going to change. What happened at Sealview hasn't changed that. Liv, please. I can't do this job without you. And if you won't do this for me, then at least do it for all the future victims that are out there."

He hesitated. "They need your help, Liv. They need someone who can understand them. And God knows I've tried, but I can't do it. None of us can. They look at you and they see something inside of you that the rest of us can never give them. Liv, you can't look at me and tell me that you don't know that. You can't look at me and tell me that everything you've ever been through doesn't play a role in that." His voice shattered as he finally lost the battle over his emotions. "Please, I can't let you give up now. Because Liv, I can't do this alone, and I sure as hell won't do it with anyone else."

* * *

"So don't take this the wrong way, but are you sure she's innocent? I mean no offense to the Captain, but it's been awhile since he was in the field."

Fin rolled his eyes at his partner. He tapped a photo on the board in front of him. "Believe me, Elizabeth Leawood wasn't lying about the abuse. She was exhibiting all the classic signs of a battered wife. I think if we'd given her the chance, she would have pled guilty in a heartbeat."

Munch sighed reluctantly. "Well, I just got off the phone with Hudson." He pointed toward a second photo on the board. "Hannah Leawood was at class that day. So if we really believe Regina's story, that means we're back to square one."

"Not quite," Fin mused. He picked up the phone and punched in a couple of numbers. "Elliot was supposed to check in with the lab. Maybe he had better luck than we did."

Munch snorted. "You think Elliot was going to the lab?"

Fin frowned at the lack of response and slammed the phone back down on the cradle. "It's what Cragen ordered," he responded swiftly.

Munch nodded. "Yeah, like Elliot ever listens to a word Cragen says. You didn't see the look on his face when Alex stopped him as we were headed out the door. Trust me—Elliot was headed to Bellevue before he got to the lab."

Fin reached for his coat. "Well, I guess I know where we're headed then."

Munch drew himself up to his feet and turned back toward his partner. "Tell me again, why it is that we get stuck doing all the work around here?"

The corner of Fin's lips turned up in a smile. "Because we're that good," he returned wryly. "Come on. Get your bony ass movin' before I decide to drive."

* * *

"Oh, God. Not you too."

Cragen hesitated before he stepped forward, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the look of amusement on her face. He took a seat across from her. "You expecting somebody else," he responded dryly. He studied her face for a moment. "It's good to see you have a sense of humor back."

Olivia laughed. "Yeah, well around here, it's a rarity." She took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. "How's everyone else holding up?"

Cragen closed his eyes. _Only Olivia would put the state of the squad before her own personal future._ He opened his eyes again, staring at her intently from across the table. "They'd be doing a helluva lot better if you'd get out of here and help them find the person who killed Pasha Bolotovsky," he responded quietly.

Olivia's eyes dropped to the floor. "Captain, I told you…"

"I know," he interrupted quickly. He waited until she finally turned back toward him and held her gaze. "But since when did I start listening to anything you say?"

"Never." The faintest hint of a smile appeared on her face. She let her hands fall forward in front of her in resignation. "What do you want from me?"

"The truth." Cragen watched the expression on her face carefully. "You didn't kill Pasha."

Olivia's breath caught in her throat. The slight tremble in her voice gave away the insecurity she felt. "What are you talking about?"

"Olivia, if you're protecting Regina, you can stop right now. She was there, but unless she's one hell of a shot and a damn good liar, she didn't kill him either."

Olivia stopped fidgeting immediately. Her eyes flew over to meet his. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "Are you sure?"

Cragen nodded quietly. "Yeah, but I need your help figuring out who did."

She hesitated. "Captain, I wasn't lying when I told you that I don't remember what happened. When I got to his apartment, the door was open so I went in. I shouldn't have been on the job after the Crewes' case, but I thought I could do it." Her voice softened. "I know you don't want to believe it, but I really have no idea if I did it or not."

"Then let me help you. Olivia, tell me what you did after you saw Regina there."

She hesitated. "Captain, I know that I shouldn't have done it, but I didn't want her to get in trouble so I…I told her to go home."

"So she left before Elliot got there?" Cragen prompted her gently. She nodded silently in response. "Olivia, after Elliot told you to leave the crime scene, where did you go?"

"Back to the House. I went to the crib to clear my head. I knew I had spare clothes in my locker. When I calmed down, I went back to my desk to catch up on some paperwork. I didn't even realize that Elliot had covered for me until just before you called me to your office. That's when I knew that it had to be me." Olivia stopped, turning toward him slowly. "Elliot would have never tried to cover for me if the evidence didn't point toward me. Why does it matter?"

"Olivia, are you telling me that you didn't go back to your apartment before you came back to the precinct?" Cragen demanded softly.

She nodded silently. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "I didn't want to be home alone."

Cragen swallowed hard. When he spoke, he sounded relieved. "Olivia, I confirmed it with the lab on my way over here. Pasha was killed with your off-duty Glock. When you came into my office you turned in your badge and your gun. You gave me your on duty weapon so unless you were carrying both of them when you were at that house, you didn't do it."

Olivia's head snapped up. "My off duty weapon was in my apartment. How the hell did it get to the crime scene?"

"I don't know," Cragen answered grimly. "But you better believe I'm going to find out."

* * *

"It's about time somebody got here."

Munch crossed the lab over by where O'Halloran was staring intently at a computer screen. "Yeah, sorry, we're late." He nodded at the screen. "So why exactly did you drag us all the way out here in subzero temperature?"

"I got your message about the fingerprints." O'Halloran minimized the computer screen in front of him before pulling up another one. "So I did a little more testing."

"You found Regina's prints in the closet?" Fin guessed.

O'Halloran nodded. "Yeah, your hunch was right on the money. It was cold that day so no prints on the main entrance because she was still wearing her gloves. But by the time she'd entered the foyer, she had taken them off. We didn't find them in the living room when we dusted for prints because she wasn't there. But Regina's prints were on the basement door, the closet door, and on the wall inside the closet."

"Which backs up her story that she was hiding from the shooter," Munch observed. He nodded. "Thanks, Ryan."

As they turned to leave, O'Halloran held up his hand. "Whoa, wait a minute. I'm not done yet. Cragen ran out of here earlier before I could tell him the rest. When you asked me to go back and run prints on the basement door, I found something else you might find interesting."A handful of photos appeared on the screen in front of him. O'Halloran nodded toward the screen. "You said Regina had only touched the outside of the door because it was locked, but I ran prints on both sides just to make sure. CODIS came back with a match on three other sets of prints."

Fin crossed his arms over his chest. "Whose prints did you get?"

"Michaela Spring, Kayla Cox, and Sasha Minden." Three photos popped up on the screen. O'Halloran turned to face them. "All three girls between the age of 14 and 16 showed up missing from the tri-state area within the last four years.

There was silence for a long moment as they each studied the photos. As his eyes settled on the last one, Munch drew in his breath sharply. "Hold on a minute. Ryan, blow up that last photo for me to take a look at it."

Fin hesitated as he studied the photo that sprang to the front of the screen. "She looks awful familiar," he managed, glancing back over to his partner.

Munch nodded grimly. "Yeah, Sasha Minden is our fifteen year old rape victim from Pasha's school in Brooklyn."

Fin nodded in agreement. "So what the hell was she doing back in his brownstone a couple of months after he rapes her?"

Munch shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I think the better question might be what was a fifteen year old girl who has been missing for the last three years doing taking dance classes at Pasha's school in Brooklyn?"

"You thinkin' runaway?" Fin leaned up against the table in front of him, completely oblivious to O'Halloran's presence next to them.

Munch shook his head. "I looked that school up on the internet. No runaway that I know of could afford to take those classes."

"So we're either talkin' about a kidnapping or…"

"Or somebody took those girls in and forced them to stay there," Munch finished. He drew himself up to his full height and glanced back over at his partner. "The question is what did it cost them?"

Fin whistled lowly. "I'd say this puts a whole new spin on who killed Pasha."

"Well, then you better find that out fast." Both sets of eyes snapped back over to O'Halloran. He looked surprised at their response. "Don't tell me Cragen didn't tell you?" he added tentatively.

Fin was the first to speak. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Cragen didn't tell us what?"

O'Halloran took a big breath. "Olivia accepted a plea deal on Pasha Bolotovsky's murder. At 9 am tomorrow morning, she's going in for sentencing. If you don't find something out before that, it'll be too late for her to change her plea."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

* * *

"How did it go with Olivia?"

Cragen glanced up, the sigh he released penetrating the silence that followed Huang's question. "Not good," he finally managed. "George, she knows her niece didn't do it so she's not protecting her anymore, and I as much as told her she didn't do it."

"And she still wants to plead this out?" Huang ventured quietly.

Cragen nodded miserably. "All she'll tell me is it's too late. I can't prove that she left that gun in her apartment which means I can't force the DA to back out of the deal. Olivia is going to prison in sixteen hours and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. Why the hell won't she fight this?"

"She is fighting this." Huang studied him carefully. "The problem is she's not fighting the same battle you want her to fight, Don."

Cragen's head snapped up. "Wait a minute. Are you telling me that Olivia _wants_ to be in prison?"

Huang hesitated. "I don't know about her _wanting_ to be there. But in a sense, yes—now that she's been transferred to Bellevue, a prison sentence seems safer than the alternative."

"Are you suggesting we have her transferred back to Sealview?" Cragen demanded incredulously.

Huang shook his head. "Of course not. But Don, Olivia knows she's innocent now. The fact that she's still not fighting to get out of there mean she's doing exactly what I was afraid she would do. And it has nothing to do with winning or losing this case. She feels trapped, and she has no idea how to get herself out of the situation she's created."

"What do you mean she feels trapped? All she has to do is say she didn't do it, and Alex will get her out of there. We can win this case, George. All she has to do is say the word."

"It's not winning the case she's worried about, Don," Huang broke in gently. "It's what comes after that. Olivia's identity is tied to her job. She doesn't know how to accept losing that, and once she's released from prison, she's going to have to face that. She's buying time. By pleading guilty when she knows she didn't do it, she's guaranteed to go to prison. That means she doesn't have to figure out how to live without this job."

Cragen furrowed his brow. "If she's worried about losing this job, why would she put in for a transfer request?"

"Because she's running away. This job is not easy, Don. I don't need to tell you that. But most people take a vacation when they need a break from it. Olivia can't do that. She doesn't know how to ask for time off when she can't handle her emotions so she tries to control the situation by getting out of it. By transferring out of the unit, she knows that she can take the time she needs and ask to come back when she's ready. That's far easier for her than admitting she can't handle it."

"So why is she setting herself up to go to prison? She's setting herself up for the next ten years in the federal lock-up."

"Because she doesn't look at it as being ten years," Huang countered softly. "Olivia is smart. She knows how the system works. By pleading guilty to a crime she didn't commit, she's buying time for herself to figure out what else to do with her life. And when she's figured that out, she's trusting that you'll be able to convince the judge she was wrongfully imprisoned."

"That's a hell of a lot of trust," Cragen responded grimly. "And a bargain I'd rather not take so how do we get around it?"

"I'm not sure you can. The only way around it is to let her know she's guaranteed to have a job to come back to when she's ready. But Olivia knows that's a problem. Not only did she confess to murder, but she had a complete melt-down in front of Judge Petrovsky. Do you honestly think the brass is going to let her come back after all that?"

Cragen stood up and started toward the door. With one hand on the doorknob, he turned back around slowly. "I don't know, George" he admitted softly. "But I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure they do."

* * *

  
"So tell me you had better luck than I did."

Munch glanced over at his partner with a smirk. "Fine, I had better luck than you did." He sighed, the smile fading from his face. "Nothing, nada, niente…"

"You could have just left it at 'nothing'," Fin grumbled, rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You didn't have to rub it in."

Munch peered over his glasses at him. "And not impart further knowledge of my vast multilingual expertise?" He shook his head. "You know, the United States is the only country that shuns other languages. Most Europeans speak anywhere between two and four different languages. Personally, I speak a little bit of Spanish, Russian…"

"You're not going to be speaking anything if you don't help me find these missing girls," Fin shot back. He glared over at his partner. "What the hell are you so chipper about anyway?"

"Ah, so what you're really upset about is the fact that you didn't get the scoop first." Munch let silence envelope them as he patiently waited for a response from his partner.

Fin sighed. "Okay, fine. What have you got?"

Munch tapped his watch. "Night court ends in approximately five minutes," he announced dramatically. "And Cabot has been waiting outside the courthouse with her phone glued to her side for the last hour while Captain went back to Bellevue. Apparently he finally got through to Olivia this time because as we speak, Alex is standing before Petrovsky to reverse the decision on the plea agreement."

Fin expelled the breath he had been holding and sank down in his chair. "Finally." He glanced back up at his partner. "So how long have you been withholding this little tidbit of knowledge?"

"Oh, about fifteen minutes," Munch returned waving his hand. "I have to admit it was well-worth it to see the look on your face."

"Great," Fin grumbled back in response. "Well, in the meantime, we still have three missing girls and absolutely zero leads."

"Ah, wrong again, my dear friend. That's where my vast intellect comes into play. I've actually been working while you've been sitting here brooding over the lack of response to your phone inquiries."

Fin sighed. "All right. What have you got?"

"How about someone who actually knew one of our victims?"

"Hannah Leawood." Fin glanced back up at his partner. "What are the chances that the two never met while both working with Pasha?"

"Highly improbable given the fact that the school in Brooklyn used to use the facilities at Hudson for an extra rehearsal space," Munch returned with a flourish. "Of course, getting her to talk might be another story."

"Well, she better start talkin' soon," Fin managed. "Because Olivia needs all the help she can get."

* * *

  
"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Alex cleared her throat and her eyes dropped to the floor. She lifted her chin, the expression on her face determined. "Yes, and I'm sorry, but this couldn't wait until morning. Your Honor, please. My client would like to change her plea."

"Oh, please. The plea is already on the record," Tracey Kibre shot back.

"But the sentencing hasn't taken place yet!" Alex protested. "Your Honor, new evidence has come to light which casts serious doubt on my client's guilt. And if the prosecution refuses to acknowledge that, then at least let her have her chance in court."

Lena Petrovsky studied Alex's face closely. "If your client wasn't guilty, she shouldn't have confessed to murder, let alone entered a guilty plea." She sighed. "But I'll err on the side of caution. Motion to suppress the plea agreement is granted. However…" Her gaze flew over to Alex. "You're not getting off so easy, Ms. Cabot. You want to take this case to trial, fine. But I'm giving you one day to prepare your case. I will not allow you to postpone this trial any further."

Alex nodded quickly. "Yes, your Honor."

Petrovsky surveyed both women. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Alex ventured softly. Her breath quickened and she fought to steady her voice. "The defense asks that you release the defendant on bail."

"Excuse me?" Tracey shot back. She glanced back over at Judge Petrovsky. "Your Honor, you've already ruled on the matter of bail. Just because the defense doesn't like your ruling doesn't mean they get to go for a second round."

Lena Petrovsky nodded. "Thank you for looking out for me, Ms. Kibre," she countered dryly. Her eyes narrowed and darted back over to Alex. "But I'd love to hear the argument you have for this one, Ms. Cabot."

Alex took a deep breath. "Your Honor, my client has the sixth amendment right to assist in her own defense. Currently, she is unable to do so while locked up in prison."

"It's not unheard of to assist in your own defense from within the confines of a prison cell, Ms. Cabot," Petrovsky insisted, her voice hardening. "Your client is not above the law."

"I would agree with you on that. However, my client was sexually assaulted nine months ago while working undercover in a prison. Her mental state as long as she is locked up precludes her ability to assist in her own defense. Particularly after being sent back to the very prison in which she was assaulted!"

Petrovsky looked taken aback. "I have no record that your client was ever sexually assaulted, Ms. Cabot. That's a pretty serious accusation. Do you have proof that this alleged assault took place?"

"I do, your Honor. Detective Odafin Tutuola walked in during the assault and arrested the perpetrator on another charge. The case did not go to trial because, like many victims of sexual assault, my client was too traumatized to pursue the investigation further. She is currently suffering from Rape Trauma Syndrome and needs to be in a more supportive environment in order to adequately assist in her own defense."

Petrovsky nodded. When she spoke her voice was quiet. "Very well then. I'll release the defendant on bail. But I am holding you personally responsible for making sure that she shows up for all court appearances from here on out. Is that clear, Ms. Cabot?"

"Yes, your Honor. Thank you."

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

The door in front of her slid open. Elliot didn't move. He glanced over at her, a half smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I heard you changed your mind about the plea agreement. Alex went straight to night court to catch Petrovsky before tomorrow morning." He shrugged. "Sorry you couldn't be there."

Olivia hesitated. "What happened?" Her eyes darted over to the still open door beside him.

"I'm getting you out of here," he answered gruffly nodding behind him.

Olivia's eyes widened and she cocked her head slightly, searching his face for a response. "Petrovsky granted me bail?"

Elliot nodded. "So you can assist in your own defense," he added, observing the cautious look on her face. "So are you coming or not?"

She stood up slowly and came up beside him. She studied him for a long moment before she finally spoke. When she did, her voice was soft. "Hey El…thanks."

He smirked back at her. "Don't thank me yet. I didn't say I was taking you home." He nodded down the hall and led her back out. "I'm putting you to work. Apparently Munch and Fin are starting to feel a little over-worked and Capt'n doesn't trust my temper without someone keeping it in line so he won't allow me to work alone."

Her lips turned upward in the first hint of a smile. "It's a good thing that's my specialty," she shot back.

"I'm counting on it," he returned, nodding to the outside entrance in front of them. "Because I'm sure as hell not getting anywhere on this case by myself. I need my partner back."

Olivia stilled. She turned back toward him uncertainly. "El, I can't work this case. It's a conflict of interest—did you forget I'm the one on trial for his murder? I'm too close to it."

He watched her with amusement. "As far as the brass is concerned, none of us are working this case, Liv," he added lightly. "It's never stopped us before." He tossed the jacket he had draped over his arm at her and she caught it between her fingertips. "It's cold out there," he warned her as he pushed the door open.

Without waiting for a response, he started to walk out the door. A smile pulled at her lips as she matched his every stride, pulling the jacket over her trembling shoulders as she went. She stared straight ahead as they walked, blinking back the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes. Olivia stopped just short of getting in the squad car, forcing a blast of cold air into her lungs before finally opening the door and sliding in beside him. She glanced over at him. "Elliot, I…I don't know what to say."

He turned the key in the ignition and listened as it roared to life. The smile on his lips froze. "You don't have to say anything, Liv. Just tell me one thing." He took a deep breath before turning to face her. "What did you really mean when you told me that Eli turned out perfect and to spare you the perils of women over forty having babies?"

* * *


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

* * *

_What did you really mean when you told me that Eli turned out perfect and to spare you the perils of women over forty having babies?_

Olivia froze, and all of a sudden it took everything she had within her just to fill her lungs with oxygen. And when she finally did, she hated the shallow breath that escaped from her lips with a sudden fervor. She hated the way every muscle in her body seemed to suddenly tremble in response. But more than anything—she hated those cool blue eyes that studied her. That noticed. That refuted her every protest. They pierced through to her soul in a way that left no room for arguments, no room for excuses. They didn't just ask for the truth—they demanded it. And all of a sudden Olivia had no idea how to give that to him, how to confide in him a truth she was sure could never be forgiven.

Ten and a half years worth of convincing others she was strong dissipated in an instant. Ten and a half years worth of secrets she had needed to keep hidden left suddenly exposed. And Olivia felt completely and utterly vulnerable. Because finally he would see the one thing she had needed to hide in order to survive.

_She was weak._

She was weak then. She was weak now.

It had been easy to pretend that the truth had ceased to exist, easy to believe that her world had always been nothing more than what it was today. It was a hell of a lot harder to admit that it wasn't, that there had once been the promise of something more.

"I don't know what you're talking about, El." Olivia averted her eyes away from his penetrating gaze and swallowed hard.

"Like hell you don't?" he returned. "Olivia, you weren't just talking about your biological clock ticking when you said that. Just please, tell me."

Her voice was suddenly small, vulnerable. "El, it doesn't matter anymore."

The stricken look on her face shocked him. He laid a hand gently on her shoulder and forced her to look back up at him. "Yes, it does, Liv. It matters to you. Please just tell me the truth."

"I can't." She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, El. Not right now. I just…I need to focus on this case for a little bit. We'll talk later, okay?"

Elliot took a deep breath. "Olivia, before Eli was born, Kathy said she was in and out of consciousness. How did you know that you needed to time how far apart her contractions were coming?"

Olivia froze. "Elliot…"

"No, Liv, listen to me." His voice was raw with emotion. "On the Fidelia Vidal case, how did you know all the health risks associated with teenage pregnancies? Kathy was pregnant when we were fresh out of high school, and I didn't even know half of that. Hell, on every case we've ever worked, you've never needed to ask Warner any of that. And I don't know why…maybe it's because you're a woman. But I never questioned how you knew what you did. But Liv, those aren't just things you automatically pick up."

"Elliot, stop," she begged him.

"Liv, please. Just talk to me."

When she spoke again, her voice was trembling. "El, why is it so hard for you to believe that I learned those things from somebody else?"

When he looked at her, his voice was completely serious. "Because Liv, it's always been just you. And aside from Warner, nobody else around you knows that an increase in folic acid means a woman is taking prenatal vitamins. But you sure as hell did on the Jenna Ludlow case."

"Damn it, Elliot. Stop it." Olivia shrugged his hand off of her shoulder. She blinked back tears as she forced herself to focus on the red light in front of them.

"Not until you finally tell me the truth," he demanded.

Olivia turned back toward him in a panic. And then before he realized what had happened, she reached forward and in one quick movement, unbuckled her seatbelt. She threw open the door to the car, and was halfway across the rows of traffic before the light changed to green. He swore under his breath and flipped on the dashboard lights. Ignoring the blaring horns behind him, he pulled over to the side of the road, slamming the car door shut behind him. He barely noticed his heaving gasps for breath as he ran after her. "Olivia!"

It was a full two blocks before he finally caught up with her. He reached for her wrist and yanked her around to face him. "God damn it, Olivia. Stop it!" As she spun around to face him, he drew in a quick breath. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

She froze under his touch, her body suddenly completely rigid, and she let her arms drop to her side with a sudden dead weight. Her eyes were panicked, her chest heaving with choking sobs. And he closed his eyes to block out the image. When he finally managed to open them again, his own eyes were burning. "Liv, I'm sorry," he whispered. He pulled her in toward him and watched as she slowly melted into his arms and allowed him to hold her up. He swallowed hard. "I didn't mean it, Liv. I'm sorry."

* * *

Munch drummed his fingertips lightly on his desk, the expression on his face thoughtful. After a moment, he raised his head to meet Fin eye to eye. "Okay, seven o'clock tomorrow morning," he decided.

Fin snorted and surveyed his partner. "Oh, hell no," he countered. He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned up at his partner from over his computer. "Tonight."

Munch shook his head. "You keep saying tonight, but you're wrong, my dear friend. Aside from the fact that it's already pushing nine-thirty, you are forgetting two very important things."

"Oh, this should be good," Fin muttered, stifling a laugh. "What exactly are those two very important things, John?"

"I think the better question might be what exactly are you two still doing here? I thought I told you to go home?" Both looked up startled at the sound of Cragen's voice behind them.

Fin shook his head. "Like we ever listen to you," he retorted lightly.

Cragen rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it." He glanced back and forth between the two of them. "So since you're obviously not working, what exactly are you still doing here?"

Fin averted his eyes away from his captain's steady gaze while Munch drew his head up proudly. "We're having a friendly little wager. I was just informing my overzealous partner here that Olivia will not be coming in until tomorrow morning," he explained. "And as I was saying, she has other things that will take precedence over her return trip here."

"Yeah, like what? Fin countered.

"First off—a change in clothes."

Fin shook his head. "Must I remind you that Olivia is the one who came to work in scrubs when the hospital confiscated all of her clothes after she was poisoned? Besides, she has spare clothes in the crib," he added quickly.

Munch ignored him, continuing on as if he had not said a word. "And two being a potentially heated disagreement with her partner," he added with a grin. "They haven't been at it since she got locked up. The way I figure it, they're due for one any time now. Thus the reason for my precisely drawn estimate of her arrival at the 1-6 tomorrow. So what do you say, Captain? Do you want in too?"

Cragen shook his head dubiously. "Fin, I thought you told me you just got off the phone with Elliot, and they're on their way here now."

Fin fought to keep a straight face. "I did. That doesn't mean I have to inform my partner of that." He scowled at Munch. "After all, John didn't bother to share the news that Liv agreed to change her plea," he added indignantly.

Munch glared back at him. "You knew all along?" he demanded incredulously. Without waiting for a response, he continued. "And for your information, I did inform you that Olivia agreed to change her plea."

"Yeah, _eventually_," Fin muttered under his breath. "And I would have _eventually_ filled you in on the fact that Liv was coming back, too."

Munch glared back at Fin before turning to Cragen. "Do you see what I have to put up with?" he demanded, nodding over to his partner.

Fin smirked back. "Hey, if you don't like it, you can always _try_ retiring again."

"All right, all right. That's enough," Cragen interrupted, fighting back a smile. He glanced back over at them. "Since you're obviously not planning on going home until Olivia gets here, does anyone know where the Elsa Lychkoff file is?"

"Yeah sure," Fin offered. He stood up and crossed over to Olivia's desk and started shifting through a stack of files. He tossed one at his Captain.

"Why exactly is there a stack of files on Olivia's desk?" Cragen ventured carefully, letting his eyes dart back and forth between the two.

"It's a little welcome home present," Fin responded good-naturedly. "We didn't want her to feel left out when she gets back."

"How thoughtful of you." Olivia's voice floated out from behind them. All three whipped around to face her.

"Hey, welcome back, Liv," Munch announced. He glanced over at Fin. "I would have gotten the welcome wagon ready for you, but unfortunately my partner here failed to mention the fact that you were coming back tonight."

Olivia rolled her eyes as she approached her desk. She lifted the stack of files and started flipping through them. She frowned when she came across the Laurel Andrews file. She tossed that one back on her desk before dropping the rest of the stack squarely in the middle of Fin's desk.

"Hey," he protested, gesturing over to Munch. "Why do I get stuck with all the paperwork? He's the one who started it."

"I did not start it," Munch protested emphatically. "I didn't put anything on Olivia's desk!"

Cragen ducked his head quickly to hide his flaming cheeks. "Children, please. It doesn't matter who started it. Do your own paperwork."

The corner of Olivia's lips turned up in a smile. "It's nice to know nothing has changed around here," she observed lightly. She nodded up toward the crib. "I'm going to go upstairs and change. Any chance I can get a cup of coffee _not_ made by Munch when I return?"

"Sure, Liv," El volunteered quickly. He watched the tension slowly ease away at his suggestion. He swallowed hard. "The usual?" She nodded curtly in response.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Munch turned toward Elliot, glancing back and forth between the two. "What the hell was that all about? How's she really doing?"

Before Elliot could say a word, Olivia's voice floated down from the top of the balcony. "By the way," she shot back. "Quit talking about me behind my back. I'm not a porcelain doll." Without another word, she disappeared into the crib.

"Guess that answers that one," Munch added with a grin. He turned toward Elliot. "I'll take a double espresso."

"Black," Fin muttered.

"Two percent latte," Cragen chimed in.

Elliot nodded. "Okay, I'll be right back."

* * *

"Need a lift home?"

The words shattered the silence around them. Olivia rubbed her eyes, and for the first time she realized that they were the only ones left in the bullpen. She looked back toward Elliot cautiously. His words were a silent offer. But she knew full well the answer he wanted had nothing to do with the question that had just escaped his lips. He was waiting for her, waiting for her to somehow find that strength within her to break a silence that had haunted her for almost twenty-five years. When Olivia finally spoke, her voice reverberated with every emotion she had attempted to keep hidden.

"I could never be like my mother."

Elliot's gaze softened ever so slightly. He shifted his attention back over to her. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded quietly.

Olivia looked off to the side, focusing her gaze on the photo on her desk. Anything to escape those eyes that reached inside her and were filled with unspoken apologies and regret. She didn't want his pity. She didn't want his apologies. And she sure as hell didn't want him to regret demanding the truth of her. She owed him that much. Olivia took a deep breath. "A few years ago, we were here discussing a case. I told you if it was me, it would be the morning after pill all the way." She hesitated. "I'm not as strong as she was."

Elliot perched at the edge of her desk and leaned closer toward her, forcing her to look at him. "Yes, you are. Olivia, you face your mother's past every day of your life. Just like she did."

Olivia blinked rapidly, desperately fighting back the moisture behind her eyes. The monumental sign of her own weakness prevailed as a single tear slid down her cheek. "I told myself that I left after Regina's car accident because it brought it all back up again. But the truth is I couldn't do it, El. I couldn't bear to see a reminder of what was missing every day of my life." Olivia finally raised her eyes to meet his. "My mother could. That's what I was to her."

Elliot allowed his eyes to flutter shut. He took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he studied her carefully. "Olivia, you may think that leaving was your own way of protecting yourself or escaping a reminder of what was missing, but it wasn't. Now you can't tell me that a day goes by where you don't think about what it would be like if that accident hadn't happened."

Olivia averted her eyes away from his. "It doesn't matter, El," she protested softly.

"Yes, Olivia, it does matter. You've been punishing yourself for almost twenty-five years. It's time you learn to let go and stop blaming yourself."

"Elliot, the accident was my fault. The weather was bad. The roads were icy. If I hadn't been having contractions, he would have never tried to drive me to the hospital. The accident would have never happened. They would both still be alive. How can you say that's not my fault?"

"How can you blame yourself for something you had no control over, Liv?" Elliot felt completely helpless as he watched her inner battle. And suddenly he wished that something, anything he said could make a difference, could help her to see she wasn't at fault.

"El, I had a responsibility to protect her, and I couldn't do that. I couldn't protect my own daughter."

_I couldn't protect my own daughter._

He had known the truth, and yet, somehow, the reality behind actually hearing the words escape her lips still slammed into him. But it was more than that. All of a sudden, he understood what it was she left unspoken. Because at the end of the day, there was always loss. There was always grief. Olivia had long since learned to accept that. It had become ingrained in her from far too early an age. But it had been her inability to prevent that loss that had torn her apart. And it was the acknowledgement that she had failed the one person who truly needed her to survive that haunted her now.

"Liv, you weren't driving that car," Elliot broke in softly. "And as much as you want to blame yourself for what happened, it wasn't your fault."

Olivia's head snapped up. "Yes, it was."

Elliot shook his head. "No, Liv. Accidents happen, and no matter how hard you try to find reasons behind them, you just can't. You can't control everything, and sometimes you have to just accept that for what it is and know that nothing you could have done would have changed things."

Olivia's lower lip began to tremble. "El, I wanted a family. But now…" Her voice broke off, and she drew in a shaky breath. "But now I'm afraid of screwing that up again."

There was something in her words that hit him, and he exhaled sharply. He leaned back in his seat, stunned. "That's why you wanted to adopt?" he finally managed. He stared at her and watched her struggle to lift her chin. "Because you're afraid you screwed up the first time?"

Olivia nodded hesitantly. "It doesn't matter anymore, El. I can't go through it again. I'm not fit to be a mother. The adoption agency was right for turning me down."

Elliot tentatively reached toward her and put his hand on her arm lightly and waited for her to look back at him and meet his eyes. "Olivia, that's not true."

She swallowed hard. "You know I studied all the risks of teen pregnancy, but I never thought about the most obvious. I should have taken better care of myself. I should have been more careful. I just never thought that …a good mother would never have gone out in those conditions, El. Nothing else matters."

She tossed her bangs back over her shoulder and lifted her chin. "El, please. I can't do this right now. Can we…can we just focus on the case right now?" Her voice softened slightly. "After it's over, whatever happens…I promise I'll tell you everything you want to know."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

* * *

_It had been too easy._

Elliot studied the cracked ceiling above him for what seemed like the hundredth time. His eyes followed the jagged edge of the indenture and vaguely he wondered why it had taken so long for the thought to occur to him. He glanced over at the glowing numbers beside him and cringed. Three and a half hours to be exact. He closed his eyes.

Olivia Benson had never been easy. Understanding her. Reading her. Communicating with her. Hell, he'd given up on using words years ago. He'd learned that the only way to really understand her was to look into her eyes. He'd learned that the only way to ever get her to trust him was to allow her to keep her secrets. And he'd learned that it was easier to solve every cold case in Manhattan than to abstract a single piece of information that Olivia Benson wasn't ready to divulge.

It had been Cragen that had informed him of the truth about her conception when she first started in the unit, and it had taken roughly three and a half years before she finally admitted that it affected her. It took eight and a half years for her to admit she was lonely, nine and half years for her to tell him she wanted a family, and ten and half years for him to find out she had once had one. And yet somehow in the span of one evening she had revealed the truth about a daughter he had never known about and the accident that had stolen her away? Elliot opened his eyes again and stared blankly overhead.

_Yeah, somehow, that wasn't quite working out for him._

Which of course could only mean there was something more to it. Somehow, there was something more that was too painful for her to admit, too painful for her to accept. And he wasn't sure he was ready to find out what it was. Because his heart had broken a little bit more with everything he had learned about her, about her past. Every time he realized what she had been through, he wanted to pull her closer and be able to protect her from further pain. But he knew that there was no way he could ever do that, no way she would ever allow him to shield her from it. Because to admit it affected her was to admit the possibility that she might not be able to handle it.

Damn her for being so strong.

He reached for his phone and flipped it open. His fingers sought out her number, and he hesitated for a moment. He wanted her to know he was still there for her, wanted her to know that somehow he would find the strength to hear the rest of her story. His fingers fumbled across the keypad in the dark.

_You still awake?_

Elliot stared at the unsent message in front of him for a long moment. He wanted her to know he was still there, wanted her to know that she didn't have to suffer in silence. But he had no idea if he was ready to handle the truth she had to offer. He had no idea how to convince her to let him in.

He held down a single key and the message in front of him vanished. Elliot drew in a shaky breath and allowed his eyes to slip closed, the words he had been unable to give her filtering in and out of his consciousness as he struggled for surrender, or oblivion, or whatever the hell might be able to make him forget. Forget the unsent message. Forget her impending trial. Forget that somehow despite everything she had been through, she still managed to be the only one who could handle the truth. Because he sure as hell wasn't ready for it.

Elliot wasn't sure he was ready to hear the rest of her story because as much as she tried to protect him, she had always known what he could handle. It was the one thing he trusted without question. She had always been able to read him, been able to understand without a word when he was ready to fall, when he was ready to crack, when he was ready to blow. She knew how to draw the line to protect him from himself. And the fact that she didn't think he could handle the truth was the one thing that terrified him. Because it wasn't the truth behind what she had to offer, it was her reason for withholding it that he was nowhere near ready to accept.

* * *

"Where's Elliot?"

Olivia glanced up from her desk to meet Alex's inquisitive gaze. "He's not here yet." She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting back over to her computer screen. "Alex, when a woman thinks she's in labor, what's the point in timing how far apart her contractions are coming?" she asked casually.

Alex stared back at her blankly. "I don't know, Liv. Try asking someone who has kids?" She sighed. "Why? Do you think Hannah might actually be pregnant?"

Olivia shook her head. "Never mind," she muttered under her breath.

Alex dropped her briefcase next to Olivia's desk and glanced around the squad room. "Where is everybody?"

"Ah, so you did miss my alluring presence. Or perhaps it's my enigmatic, yet quite compelling sense of humor?" Munch announced dramatically as he came up behind them.

"The only thing compelling is the coffee shop down the street," Fin grunted as he burst through the doors, handing a steaming cup of coffee over to Cragen.

"Hey, I just made a fresh pot," Munch protested. He turned toward Alex. "Would you care for a cup of coffee?"

Alex held up the cup in her hand. "Sorry, Munch. I grabbed my own on my way in this morning. Maybe next time."

Olivia stifled a laugh as she averted her eyes away quickly. Munch turned toward her anyway. "Olivia, would you care for a cup of my freshly brewed, impeccable blend of…"

"Sorry, John. I just picked her up a cup on my way in." Elliot announced as he came within ear shot. He slid a cup in front of Olivia and winked. She breathed a sigh of relief and offered Munch an apologetic shrug.

Munch studied Elliot for a moment. "You look like hell," he shot back.

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly get a lot of sleep last night," Elliot muttered in return.

"Why not? It's not like you're the one on trial for murder," Olivia observed dryly. She took a sip out of the cup in front of her and turned her attention back over to Alex.

"Which is precisely why we need to focus," Alex announced. "Now assuming I can't get the time pushed back, we have approximately twenty-four hours before Liv's trial. Please tell me you guys have managed to find something."

Munch and Fin traded looks. "Well, Hannah and Regina should be here within the hour," Fin finally offered. "Hopefully we can get something out of Hannah about the missing girls."

"But we still have the problem with how Olivia's off duty weapon made it to the crime scene," Cragen mused thoughtfully. He turned toward her. "Olivia, do you keep it locked up at home?"

Olivia hesitated. "Well…" she hedged.

Elliot answered for her. "She's never had any reason to. She lives alone. The only visitors she ever has are in this room. There's no need to lock it up from anybody."

As the others started to nod in agreement, Fin hesitated. "That's not exactly true," he ventured quietly. His eyes were filled with apologies as he turned toward her. "Liv, how many times have you…" He cleared his throat, suddenly uncertain how to phrase his question.

Olivia turned toward him in confusion. And then all of a sudden it hit her. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, her face suddenly pale. "Oh, God. I didn't even think about…" She drew in a shaky breath. "I mean I was..." She chewed on the bottom corner of her right lip. "I don't even know their names," she finally admitted quietly.

Elliot's head shot up. "What are you talking about, Liv?" His eyes darted over to Fin who shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next. And then suddenly he realized what they were talking about. He swallowed hard. "How many, Liv?" He drew his eyes up to meet hers and fought to steady his voice. "How many different men did you bring home to your apartment?"

The room was completely silent as his words sank in. When Olivia finally responded, her voice was suddenly soft, vulnerable. "I don't remember."

* * *

"You're splitting them up?"

Cragen closed the door behind him and watched as Alex flipped her phone shut and crossed his office to the two-way window. He nodded and followed her. With a quick flick of his wrist, he opened the shades and watched as Olivia escorted her niece into the interrogation room. "Trust me, Alex. Things have changed since you left."

Her eyes narrowed. "So I've noticed. Care to fill me in on what I've missed?"

Cragen let out an exasperated sigh. "That's a loaded question. Let's just say that the chance of Munch spearheading a government conspiracy is more likely than keeping these two from blowing up at each other right about now."

Alex nodded. "All right, so you think splitting them up and sending Elliot and Fin to follow the trail of Olivia's Glock is going to miraculously counteract some inevitable disagreement?" She arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "I don't buy it."

"No," Cragen countered quickly. "I plan to use that to my advantage." He took a deep breath. "Elliot is pissed off at Olivia right now, and Fin knows more than he's letting on. Elliot's rage is going to drive him to figure out what happened to that gun, and in the meantime, I get to postpone World War III in my squad room long enough to get some answers out of Hannah Leawood."

The faintest hint of smile pulled at the corner of her lips. Alex glanced back down at her phone as it buzzed in response to an incoming text message. "I see you haven't lost anything since I left."

Cragen turned toward her, his face suddenly serious. "It may not matter if we can't clear her. Alex, we're running out of time here. Please tell me you've got some way to stall this case."

Alex let out a heavy sigh. "I'm working on it, Don." She flipped her phone open again and scanned the message. She raised her eyes up to meet his, the expression on her face hopeful. "I just managed to get Olivia's trial pushed from first thing tomorrow morning to the end of the day tomorrow. That gives you eight more hours," she informed him quietly. "But I'm running out of favors, and Petrovsky's patience is wearing thin. That's all I can do for you, Don." She turned around and headed for the door.

"Where are you going, Alex?"

She hesitated, her hand poised on the doorknob. She turned back around. "I'm going to write my opening argument. Hopefully by the time the prosecution has finished presenting their case, we'll have something concrete to support it."

* * *

"Brian, Jason, Ellis, Grant, Terry, Daniel, Alec …"

Elliot's voice trailed off as the door slammed shut behind him. He turned to face Fin, the expression on his face, suddenly sullen. "Jesus, what the hell was she thinking?"

"She wasn't. That's the problem," Fin responded, his voice short and to the point. He glanced down at the notebook in his hand. "Look, we can rule Alec out. Olivia went to his place instead of hers…same thing with Jason and Grant. That leaves us with only four possible suspects. You think you can handle this, or do I need to find a new partner?"

Elliot glared back at him. "I never said I couldn't handle it," he snapped.

"Good," Fin muttered. "Because you sure as hell could have fooled me." He slammed the car door shut behind him and stared straight ahead of him.

Elliot's jaw tightened as he struggled for words to refute Fin's claim. After a moment, Elliot finally turned to face him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"It means you're taking this whole thing kind of personally, don't you think?"

"Of course I'm taking it personally. My partner's been sleeping with half of Manhattan."

"No," Fin corrected him. "You're pissed off because you weren't the one there to stop her. There's a big difference."

Elliot opened his mouth to say something, and then clamped it shut without a word. He reached for his seatbelt, snapping it into place. "I never said that," he replied tersely. He turned the key in the ignition and glanced over his shoulder to check for incoming traffic.

"You didn't need to," Fin grumbled in response. "It's written all over your face. You know, you're not the only one who cares about her."

"I never said I was." Elliot jerked the steering wheel a little too abruptly, and the car jerked over onto the road.

"Well, you sure as hell act like it. Did it ever occur to you that maybe the reason she didn't come to you in the first place is because you've done nothing but push her away these past couple of years? You've been so damn self-absorbed in whatever the hell is going on with you at home that you've forgotten that she has needs too."

Elliot slammed his foot on the brake with a force that sent both of them flying back into the seat. He ignored the horns blaring all around them and whipped his head over to face Fin. "What did you just say to me?"

Fin cleared his throat. "You heard me the first time." He glared back at Elliot. "See the problem is a partnership is supposed to involve give and take. Olivia's been doin' all the givin' and you've taken about everything she has left."

When Elliot finally managed to find his voice, it was raw with emotion. "Get out."

Fin nodded in agreement. "No problem," he snapped. He tore the piece of paper in his hand in half. "You want to throw a temper tantrum, that's fine by me. But we've got a job to do. I'll take Brian and Ellis. You take Terry and Daniel. Try not to kill either one of them."

* * *

"Hannah, this is really important. Do you recognize her?"

Hannah reached out and took the photo from Olivia's hand and studied it carefully. She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry."

Olivia's heart fell just a little bit. "Hannah, are you sure? Think hard. Did you ever see her with Pasha?"

Hannah studied the photo a little bit closer. "Well…" She hesitated. "Maybe."

Regina rested her hand over her sister's arm gently. She shot Olivia an encouraging look before turning back to her sister. "It's okay, Hannah. Tell her everything you know."

"Well, there was this girl that came to Hudson once. She danced with Pasha at his school in Brooklyn, but…"

"But what, Hannah?" Olivia prompted her gently.

"Well, I'm not sure if this is her or not. She was really quiet. She didn't say much of anything until one of the other teachers tried to pull her aside in the other room. Then she became completely hysterical. One of the teachers came over to calm her down, and they took her away. She never came back."

"Where was Pasha when all this happened?" Munch finally interjected from his place across the room.

Hannah's eyes dropped to the floor. "He was…he had taken me into other room for a..._a private rehearsal_," Hannah whispered.

Olivia allowed her eyes to slip closed for a brief moment. "Okay," she interrupted her quietly. She fought to steady her voice. "So after you and Pasha were…in the other room together…he didn't come back right away?"

Hannah shook her head.

"Hannah, listen to me. Did you ever talk to her, or did anyone ever call her by name?"

"No, I'm sorry. I never did find out her name."

"How about the name of the other teacher who tried to calm her down?" Munch tried.

Hannah nodded eagerly. "That was Miss Margaret. She wasn't teaching that day, but she stopped by to drop off some programs for the concert we had that evening."

"You had a concert," Olivia interrupted. Her eyes widened. "Hannah, do you remember what day this happened?"

Hannah nodded. "Sure, it was before the fall concert."

"Wait a minute, I went to that concert," Regina added. She reached for her phone and started flipping through to her calendar. "That would have been in September—September twenty-fifth through twenty-eighth."

"It was opening night," Hannah volunteered.

"September twenty-fifth," Olivia concluded. She glanced over at Munch before turning back to face both of her nieces. "Would you excuse us for just a moment?"

Regina nodded. "Yes, of course."

Olivia's lips curved into a half smile as she pulled herself up to her feet. She followed Munch out the door. As soon as it closed back behind them, the smile died on her lips. "September twenty-fifth is the day Michaela Spring was taken to the hospital for her rape kit."

Munch nodded grimly. "Yeah, I know. Look Liv, I know you want to see your nieces. Maybe I should…"

Olivia arched an eyebrow at him. "If we can clear my name, I'll have plenty of time to catch up with my nieces. I think it's about time we paid Miss Margaret a visit."

Without another word, Munch watched her disappear out the door. He followed her into the bullpen and watched her throw her jacket over her shoulders on her way out the door. In one single gesture, he swept the sedan keys off of his desk and grabbed his jacket. As she pushed open the main entrance and began the descent down the stairs, he watched her lift her chin ever so slightly, inhaling the crisp, cold breeze with an air of determination.

"Come on," she tossed back at him. "What are you waiting for?"

A small smile spread across his face as he followed her down the stairs toward the awaiting sedan. "Welcome back, Liv," he whispered. "Welcome back."

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Thanks to Sara for bearing with me and being a soundboard as I write this chapter. You are amazing, and I appreciate all your help more than you'll ever know. Apologies to everyone about the length of time for this update. Things have been crazy between the end of the semester and trips to the hospital for a minor operation. Only two more weeks to go, and then I should have a lot more time to get back to writing. In the meantime, thanks for all of your reviews that have kept me going. You truly are amazing._

* * *

"Margaret Stilton."

Olivia stepped through the doorway in front of her and blinked as her eyes slowly adjusted to the change in sunlight. She tipped her sunglasses forward and turned back toward the woman who stood in front of her.

Margaret's eyes darted back and forth between Munch and Olivia as she began her descent down the staircase outside the main entrance of the theatre. "I'm afraid I don't have much time, Detectives, but if you'd like to walk with me across campus, I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have."

Olivia nodded. "What can you tell us about this girl?" she inquired as she handed over the photo in her hand. "We heard you might have been present when she had a little breakdown in the studio." Olivia smiled patiently and watched the expression on Margaret's face.

Margaret nodded quickly. "Yes, poor girl." She handed the photo back over to Olivia. "She was very upset when one of our teachers tried to take her into the other room to take some costume measurements from her.

"Who was this teacher?" Munch demanded as he slid in step beside them.

"Robert Clay," Margaret added quietly. "Both he and his wife, Sandra teach here. We're very lucky to have both of them here with the girls. He was very upset by the way Michaela panicked, and he made sure to send Sandra over to help calm her down."

"And did she calm her down?" Olivia prompted.

Margaret hesitated and slowed her pace ever so slightly. "Well, she tried, but the poor girl was completely hysterical. I thought she had just had a bad day, but Sandra was worried something else was wrong. When Michaela mentioned something about a baby, Sandra decided to take her into the hospital to make sure everything was okay."

Munch nodded. "Okay, so when Sandra took her to the hospital, did you decide to ride along?"

Margaret shook her head. She paused in front of a large building. "I tried. Sandra thought she would be more comfortable with just one of us in the car, and there was nothing I could do to change her mind. So I drove separately and met them at the hospital."

Olivia exchanged glances with Munch. "Okay, any idea where we can find either one of them?"

"Sure," Margaret added quickly. She waved a hand at the stone building in front of them. "The studio is just inside this building. They both finished up with a rehearsal for a new pas de deux they're working on. If you hurry, you should be able to catch them."

Munch peered over his glasses at her. "Anything else you can think of?" he added.

Margaret shook her head. "No, but if I can help with anything else, please let me know. It's awful what happened to Pasha. We're all still in shock."

Olivia nodded. "Just one more thing, Ms. Stilton. What was your relationship like with the girls?"

Margaret hesitated. Her eyes dropped to the ground. "I take care of all of them," she admitted quietly. "A lot of these girls come here from far away. They don't always have someone here for them so I make sure they get everything they need. It just breaks my heart to know that Michaela is missing. If you find her, you'll let me know?"

Munch turned to look at Olivia. He passed a business card over to Margaret. "We're going to do our best to find her," he promised. "In the meantime, if you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to give us a call."

* * *

"Daniel Crowley."

The door in front of him stalled, and Elliot quickly threw up the hand holding his shield. "Detective Elliot Stabler, Special Victims Unit."

Daniel hesitated. "The police." He glanced over his shoulder. "What do you want from me?"

Elliot swallowed hard. "I'd like to ask you a couple of questions. Can I come in?"

The door finally parted and Daniel stepped aside, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed as he watched Elliot step inside. With a sigh, he gestured toward the living room. "I guess you can come in. What's all this about?"

Elliot reached inside his pocket and pulled out a photo, handing it over to Daniel to inspect. "I need for you to tell me if you know this woman."

Daniel's eyes slid down to the photo now in his hand. He swallowed hard before quickly bringing his eyes up to meet Elliot's. "No, sorry…never seen her before."

"Really?" Elliot countered. "That's funny because I've got a witness that puts the two of you together inside Maloney's the other night. Apparently you were quite cozy and quite the gentleman when it came to escorting her out at the end of the night."

Daniel's eyes darted over toward the bedroom door. He cleared his throat. "Well, they must be mistaken. I'm sorry, Detective. It wasn't me. I've never been to Maloney's before."

Elliot smirked back at him. "So the charge to your credit card for drinks for two was what…just some coincidence?" Elliot watched him begin to squirm. "Or maybe another case of mistaken identity?"

"Baby, who are you talking to?" A female voice floated out from the bedroom.

Daniel groaned. "Nobody, Janine. I'll be back in a minute." He turned back to Elliot frantically. "Look if my wife finds out what you're here about…"

Elliot's head snapped up. "You're married?"

Daniel nodded miserably. "Yeah, and if you don't mind, I'd like to keep it that way. So if you ask me anything in front of my wife, I'm going to deny it."

Elliot swallowed hard. "Okay, fine. So talk."

Daniel's eyes darted back and forth for a long moment before settling on the door. When he was satisfied nobody was coming out, he finally spoke. "I met her inside Maloney's two weeks ago. My wife and I were having problems. She was alone. We both got drunk. One thing led to another, and you know…we ended up back at her place. I don't even remember her name."

"You're telling me she somehow missed the wedding band on your hand?" Elliot countered skeptically.

Daniel sighed impatiently. "I was looking for a little action, Detective. I wasn't wearing it. She didn't ask. I didn't tell. Come on, you can't tell me, you've never heard that before?"

Elliot ignored him. He leaned back in his chair. "All right, so you go back to her place, and then what?" he demanded.

Daniel shifted uncomfortably. "We cracked open a bottle of wine, skipped a lot of the small talk…things were getting pretty heated until it went south. Come on, you don't need to know all the details, do you?"

Elliot glared back at him. "Yeah, actually I do. What do you mean 'things went south'? You mean you couldn't perform?"

"No," Daniel returned heatedly. "I mean she flipped out on me." He smirked. "Apparently she couldn't take all of me, if you know what I mean."

Elliot's stomach turned as he stared down at the condescending smirk on his face. He swallowed hard. "You're talking about oral?"

Daniel nodded darkly. "Yeah, the bitch turned hysterical and kicked me out as soon as I got close to her." He scowled. "I decided to cut my losses and got out of there. Too bad too—she missed out on one hell of a night." He glared back at Elliot. "Is that all?"

"No," Elliot returned heatedly. "One more thing…did you use a condom?"

Daniel stood up quickly. He glared back at Elliot. "That is none of your business. And unless you can convince me of its relevance, I think we're done here."

* * *

"Can I help you?"

Olivia turned around in surprise at the quiet voice behind her. "Yes, we're looking for Robert and Sandra Clay."

The young woman smiled. "You found me," she added with a small laugh. "I'm Sandra, and this is my husband, Robert. And who are you?"

"Detectives Munch and Benson from the Special Victims Unit," Munch added gesturing over to Olivia. "Do you mind if we talk to you for just a moment?"

Sandra nodded quickly and motioned for her husband to move closer. "Of course, anything we can do to help. You must be here about Pasha."

Olivia hesitated "Well, actually I'd like to ask you about a young woman you took to the hospital a few months back." She held up the photo in her hand. "Her name was Michaela Spring."

"Yes, of course," Robert interjected. "I was with Michaela when she became extremely agitated. To be honest, I've never seen anything like it, but I thought maybe she would do better with a female at her side so I sent my wife to calm her down."

Sandra nodded. "Poor thing. She was really upset. I ended up taking her to the hospital." Her eyes darted back and forth. "I'm not so sure I should say anything more…I don't want to get her into trouble."

"Is there some reason you think she might get into trouble," Olivia prodded gently.

Robert took his wife's hand. "Sandra is just trying to protect her. She disclosed some very personal details to her that she'd rather keep confidential."

"You mean she said that she'd been raped," Munch answered quietly.

Both glanced up surprised. "Yes," Sandra admitted quietly. "Well, eventually. At first, she said she was worried about her baby. She had never said anything about being pregnant, and I was not about to let one of my dancers continue to rehearse and take classes until we had an okay that everything was normal with the pregnancy."

"So what happened?" Olivia added.

Sandra glanced over to her husband uncertainly. He nodded at her. "It's okay, Honey. They're just trying to help."

She nodded. "Well, we got to the hospital, and they ran a pregnancy test, but it came back negative," Sandra admitted.

Munch nudged his glasses up and glanced back at Sandra. "So how did she take that?"

"Well, that's just it. I expected her to be happy about it. She was only fifteen years old, but she started crying. She said Pasha had promised her a baby."

"And that's when the alarm bells started going off?" Olivia confirmed. She nodded. "So you had them do a rape kit."

"Yeah," Sandra agreed. "But when they finished the kit and suggested calling the police, Michaela panicked. She wouldn't let them call anyone. That's when Margaret met me at the hospital. She insisted that we not force Michaela to do anything she didn't want to do. She said she had already been victimized, and we should let her make the decision about what she wanted to do."

"So you believed her?" Munch asked quietly.

Sandra exchanged looks with her husband. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "And I didn't like the fact that Pasha was still around all those girls, but Hudson pays both of us very well. With the economy the way it is now, good teaching jobs are hard to find. We couldn't afford to both lose our jobs."

"We both tried to adjust our rehearsal schedules to make sure he was never alone with the girls, but there was only so much we could do," Robert admitted. "To be honest, it was almost a relief when we found out he was dead. We didn't have to worry about him hurting anyone else."

* * *

"You'll have to excuse me for the surprise. I'm used to chasing down the police, not the other way around." Ellis Samson folded the reading glasses in his hand and gently set them in front of him on the edge of the desk. He smiled. "So, what can I do for you, Detective?"

Fin studied him from across the desk. "Why don't you tell me about the night you met this woman." He flashed the photo in his hand for a moment before putting it back in his pocket.

"Olivia," Ellis added softly. "What do you want to know?"

"Why don't we start with where you met her?" Fin countered quickly.

"Sure." Ellis nodded. "I write a column on social and political issues for the Ledger. I've been working non-stop on a special article. I turned in the final copy to my editor and figured I'd treat myself to a drink over at Maloney's. When I got there, she was sitting at the end of the bar all by herself. She looked lonely so I offered to buy her a drink."

"Offered to buy her a drink or offered to take her home for the night?" Fin demanded, a slight edge to his voice.

"I didn't expect anything more than a drink," Ellis responded. "To be honest, I thought she'd even shoot me down for that, but she looked like she'd had a few already so I guess I got lucky."

Fin nodded. "Define lucky?"

"Luckier than I expected. After we had thrown back a couple more drinks, she was looking a little unstable on her feet so I offered to walk her home. I didn't expect her to invite me up, but who am I to say no when she did."

"All right. How long were you there?"

Ellis tilted his head back for a moment as if contemplating his answer. "I don't know, maybe a couple of hours. Afterwards, I left her in the bedroom to sleep it off. I got the feeling she wasn't looking for anything more than one night."

Fin studied him carefully. "One more thing—did you take anything on the way out?"

Ellis looked taken aback. "Of course not. Why, did something turn up missing?"

"Yeah, a nine millimeter Glock mysteriously disappeared from her apartment and ended up at a murder scene. Any chance you know anything about that?"

Ellis' eyes widened. "Absolutely not. I can vaguely recall seeing one, but I didn't take it with me when I left. What can I do to prove that to you?"

Fin's eyes narrowed. "You can volunteer your prints. If they're not a match to those found on the gun, you'll be in the clear."

Ellis nodded eagerly. "Tell me when and where, and I'll be there. I didn't take anything."

* * *

"What the hell do you think you were doing?"

Olivia froze at the sound of the familiar voice behind her. She turned around slowly, the expression on her face puzzled. She slammed the locker door shut behind her. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and controlled. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me the first time," Elliot continued, his eyes piercing through to glare back at her. He came up beside her and leaned into the lockers behind him. When he spoke again, his voice was suddenly cold. "So what…you'll sleep with any guy who'll buy you a couple of drinks, but you draw the line at a little oral?"

The change was instantaneous. Olivia felt the stab of pain as her lungs constricted sharply, and suddenly the room seemed devoid of oxygen. She felt the weight of his words crushing her, pulling her down as she struggled for control. Her shoulders crumbled forward in defeat, and it took every effort within her just to draw her head up slowly to meet his furious gaze. "I don't have to explain my sex life to you," she finally managed tersely.

His laugh was cold, brittle. "You're right, you don't. So just tell me one thing, Liv. Why a married man? Why throw all of your values away for some idiot who could care less about you?" His voice was rising rapidly, but he didn't bother to try to hold it back. "I mean, for God's sake, Olivia, did you even bother to use protection? Or did you just not care?"

"I can't believe you're digging into my sex life," Olivia hissed incredulously. She fought to control the tremble in her voice, fought for a strength that seemed to be rapidly dissipating. "It's none of your business how many men I've slept with, Elliot. And it sure as hell isn't any of your business what kind of protection we did or did not use!"

In an instant, Elliot was beside her, his eyes tearing into hers. They flashed with a reckless abandon as emotions she barely recognized spilled forth. "It is my business when my partner is completely out of control," he shot back, his words heated. "What is it, Olivia? Did you find whatever the hell it was that you were looking for? Did it make you feel any better?"

"Elliot, stop it."

Elliot slammed his fist into the locker beside her, completely oblivious to the blinding pain that followed. She flinched in response, but he pushed forward, his voice escalating rapidly in response to her sudden silence. "No, I'm not done yet! You might not care what happens to you, but I've got news for you, Olivia. Some of us actually do. And if you think I'm going to just stand here and watch you dig yourself into a grave, I've got news for you. It's not going to happen.'

As much as she fought to control the words that escaped, Olivia hated the slight catch in her voice that gave away the vulnerability within them. "I don't need your help, Elliot."

A cold, mirthless laugh escaped from his lips as he studied the eyes that silently pleaded back with him. "That's right, I forgot. You don't need anything from me. Who am I kidding?"

Olivia turned away from him. Her voice was suddenly shaking. "I don't need you to take care of me, Elliot. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

He smirked back at her. "Yeah, that's my point. You're so screwed up in your head right now, you don't know what you need, Olivia. And if you want to pretend that you can handle this all by yourself, fine. Go right ahead and try. But don't expect me to be here when you figure out you can't."

Olivia took a step back as if she'd been slapped. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He took another step closer to her. "It means you've lost your head, Olivia. It means you care more about trying to prove that you can control your own sexuality than you do about your own safety. And after ten and a half years, if you still need me to tell you that…" He drew in a shaky breath. "If you still need me to tell you how often women are re-victimized because they can't get past that, then maybe you don't belong in this unit." He whipped back around and started toward the door.

Olivia swallowed hard as she took in his words. Her body crumpled against the locker door behind her as if the solidity of the cold metal may somehow support the staggering weight of his words. Her voice was still trembling when she finally managed to speak. "Elliot, I'm nothing like them."

He froze in place, allowing her words to settle over him. Then slowly, he turned back around, his eyes settling on her one last time before he finally disappeared out the door. "Yeah, Liv, you are."

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

* * *

_Maybe you don't belong in this unit._

Olivia stared straight ahead of her and allowed the numbness to settle over her again. She was not going to cry. She refused to cry. A drop of water teetered precariously at the edge of the faucet before finally giving out, disturbing the sanctity of the placid water around her.

Olivia drew her knees in to her chest to block out the deafening sound. A second drip followed as if mocking her. She pushed back the tendrils of hair matted around her face and buried her chin in her knees.

_Why a married man?_

Olivia drew her head up slowly, her eyes settling on the pill bottle at the edge of the bathtub. Her head was pounding. God, she just needed her head to stop pounding. Olivia allowed her eyes to slide closed and blindly reached for the bottle. Her hands were trembling as she threw her head back and let the pills slide down her throat. She didn't even bother to count how many. She didn't care. All she needed was Elliot's voice in her head to go away.

_Why throw all of your values away for some idiot who could care less about you?_

He had been married.

Olivia swallowed hard. He had been married, and she didn't even know who he was. She had spent ten and half years preserving the sanctity of a marriage that at times had ceased to exist only to throw it all away. And she didn't even know his name. She had never asked if he was married. Hell, she'd never even asked for his name. She hadn't wanted to know. She hadn't wanted to pretend that he had been real. A real person with real needs. A real person who could hurt. A real person who could love. She had needed pure anonymity. And now because of that, some woman out there was hurting. Some woman out there was going through the devastating loss of her own marriage, and it was all her fault.

Her fault. Olivia's fault.

She was officially _the other woman_. Olivia closed her eyes. How could Elliot ever forgive her for what she had done? How could she ever explain it to him? She opened her eyes again. It didn't matter. She didn't deserve his forgiveness. She didn't deserve his understanding. And he'd made it damn clear he wasn't going to stick around to hear her try to explain.

It was over. Her. Elliot. The fights. The tears. The laughter. The job. Everything she'd ever known, ever trusted. It was all over. She had been the one to drive him away just as she had always known she would. She had wanted…no, she had needed to be different from every victim.

But he had known. He had known that she wasn't different. He had seen within her—seen her weakness, seen her vulnerability. He had seen all of it. And when the truth was exposed, she had been the one to fall, the one to falter. She had been the one to shatter every semblance of moral fiber that had ever existed within her.

There was no way to get up from that.

Another droplet fell from the faucet. And then another. Olivia drew her eyes up slowly to watch the wake it left behind. Each one shattered the silence around her in time with the pounding of her heart. Olivia reached forward to pull the drain and watched it disappear. She watched the filth and dirt swirl around her, and yet she realized there was no way to escape it. It was still a part of her. And no matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't change that.

Olivia drew herself to her feet slowly. Through the cloudy haze surrounding her, she somehow managed to get dressed, somehow managed to propel her feet forward. She needed to get out of the bathroom. She couldn't breathe in here. It was suffocating. Her thoughts were suffocating. Elliot's voice was suffocating. She needed them all to go away.

_If you still need me to tell you how often women are re-victimized..._

Olivia sank into the couch and her fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle still lying out in the middle of the coffee table. How could she ever explain to Elliot that it was all ready too late for that? How could she ever tell him that she had no idea what consent was anymore?

She tipped back the bottle in her hand, and for the first time, Olivia finally felt something. The liquid burned as it slid down her throat. She needed it. She needed something just to get her through the night. Just to get her one step closer to the unknown—to a trial whose only punishment was far easier to bear than the alternative. Than the acceptance that there was no job, no family, no friends, no Elliot to ever go back to again. There was nothing left now. There was no one left now.

Olivia threw back the rest of the bottle of vodka and reached for the other one beside it. She hated vodka—she always had. But now she needed it. She needed something familiar. Something she recognized—even if it was nothing more than memories of a drunken Serena Benson holding her close. It was something. And she needed that right now.

And that was when she heard it. It started softly, and quickly grew louder—each drop a little bit louder than the last until suddenly it overpowered every one of her thoughts, every memory that she had left to cling to. Olivia didn't realize she'd thrown the empty bottle until she heard it shattering against the wall across from her. And that's when finally, she let the first tear begin to fall.

* * *

  
"What are you doing here?"

Fin propped the door open in front of him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Seriously, it's a quarter after midnight. What the hell are you doing here?"

Elliot sighed. He glanced over his shoulder as if someone might magically appear behind him and explain his presence at Fin's apartment in the middle of the night. He pushed his way through the open door and walked past Fin to take a seat on his couch. "You were right," he muttered over his shoulder.

Fin allowed the door to fall shut behind him and narrowed his eyes as he followed Elliot back into his living room. "You came here in the middle of the night to tell me I was right?" he demanded incredulously.

Elliot closed his eyes. "Don't make me repeat that."

Fin smirked back at him in response. "I would but somethin' tells me if I do, we might be here all night. So for the sake of actually getting some sleep, what was I right about?"

Elliot turned to him in confusion. "You weren't really going to bed at midnight, were you? I thought you had some exciting nightlife to come home to every night?"

Fin grunted in response. "Trust me, my nightlife isn't nearly as exciting as it was before I took this job."

Elliot nodded. "Before this job, or before this case?"

Fin glared back at him. "I'll let you know when I wanna talk about my personal life," he returned. He sighed. "So what's up?"

"I completely blew up at her," Elliot admitted quietly. He raised his head to meet Fin's eyes. "I've never blown up at a victim before so why the hell did I blow up at her?"

Fin raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want me to answer that?" he countered skeptically.

Elliot sighed. "No." He leaned back and closed his eyes. "No, I don't."

Fin shifted uncomfortably. "Look, Elliot. The problem is you don't wanna see her as a victim so you're tryin' to keep her from acting like one. And it's not gonna work. As much as none of us want to admit it, that's what she is. And it's gonna take time for her to work through that."

Elliot opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling for a long time. Finally he lowered his head to meet Fin's eyes. "Just tell me," he started quietly. He swallowed hard. "Just tell me how bad it was?"

Fin returned his steady gaze for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "I can't do that, Elliot. It's not my place to tell." He sighed. "Talk to her. I mean isn't that what you two do in the middle of the night?"

A small smile slowly pulled at the corner of Elliot's lips. "Yeah," he admitted quietly, "Yeah, we do."

Fin nodded. "Good, then I can get some sleep." As Elliot stood up to leave, Fin hesitated. "Wait a minute. What was I right about?"

Elliot groaned. "About me questioning Daniel and Terry. I was too pissed after talking to Daniel to even try talking to Terry."

Fin sighed. "Please tell me you at least remembered to ask about Olivia's Glock?"

Elliot drew his head up guiltily. "That was the next question I was going to ask before he kicked me out," he managed weakly.

Fin rolled his eyes. "Oh, this is great. Do I have to do everything myself?" he muttered under his breath. He nudged Elliot towards the door. "Look, we'll deal with the case in the morning. Just…go talk to her."

* * *

  
Alex rubbed her eyes and turned back toward the glowing numbers beside her. She blinked hard and reached for the phone on the nightstand beside her. Her fingers instinctively dialed the number she had committed to heart, and she paused as she waited for a response. It took four rings before he picked up.

"Cragen."

Alex hesitated and almost slammed the phone back down on its cradle. She drew in a shaky breath and finally found her voice. "Don, it's Alex."

His voice sounded slightly amused. "Yeah, I know. That's what caller ID is for. What's going on, Alex?"

She let her eyes slide closed and leaned back into the mountain of pillows behind her. She nudged her computer aside and drew her knees in to her chest. "Don, the trial starts tomorrow, and I…I need a reality check." There was silence on the other end of the line. Alex bit her lip nervously. "Don," she ventured softly.

Another prolonged silence followed before finally she heard his breathing resume on the other end of the line. "Alex," he began quietly. "If there's anyone I trust on this case, it's you."

She sighed. "I know, it's just…I've been away from a courtroom for so long. Maybe it was a mistake for me to take on her case. Don, we can't afford to lose. I mean what happens if she's convicted?"

"Alex, you don't have to do this on your own," Cragen assured her softly. His breathing was quiet and even on the other end of the line as he struggled for a response. "I know it doesn't seem like it now, but she's at the end of the docket tomorrow so we still have a few more hours of work before the trial starts. We'll find something." He paused. "Alex, do you remember what you told me when you first started in this unit?"

"That I intended to stand on your shoulders to reach a broader constituency. " Alex let out an exasperated sigh. "Why does that matter now?"

"It matters because I haven't been giving you anything to stand on, Alex. And I'm sorry. You can't do your job without our help, and we've all been too concerned with everything else that's going on to be able to give you something to work with."

"Don, I'm not blaming you."

Cragen sighed. "Yeah, I know, Alex. And to be honest, that's what has me worried. Maybe we needed you blaming us this time.

"Determining who's at fault here is not going to get us anywhere, Don. We need to start working together." Alex hesitated. "All of us. Because right now, we're just going in circles. And that's what the prosecution is counting on because when we get in that courtroom tomorrow, it's not just Olivia that's going to be on trial."

"You're right," Cragen agreed softly. He took a deep breath. "It's going to be all of us."

* * *

Elliot stared down at his phone. There was still no response. He traced his way back to the car, leaning up against the hood as he stared back up at the light still on in her apartment.

"Goddamn it, Olivia. Pick up the damn phone."

Silence was his only answer.

Elliot glanced back down at his watch and squinted to read the numbers with only the shimmer of moonlight to guide him—1:28 am. It was late, but not that late. There was no way she was sleeping tonight. He knew her better than that. Which could only mean she was pissed. She was pissed, and she was ignoring his calls.

"Are you the police?"

Elliot drew his gaze up slowly and stared at the young man in front of him. He nodded silently. "Detective Elliot Stabler," he managed quietly, flashing his badge with a sigh.

"It's about time someone got here. I called twenty-five minutes ago."

Elliot's head snapped up. "Called about what?"

"The ruckus upstairs. Apartment 2F—that is why you're here, right?"

Elliot didn't bother to answer. He pushed past the startled man and took the stairs two at a time. When he got outside her apartment, he banged on the door. There was no response. Just before he kicked the door in, it occurred to him that Olivia had given him a spare key in the event of an emergency. He reached for his keys, frantically searching for the one to her apartment. As soon as he pushed the door open, it stalled. Elliot hesitated. Through the narrow opening, he could see the chain lock keeping it from opening further.

Olivia had never had a chain lock on her door. Panic gripped him. With one swift kick to the door, it swung open. His eyes scanned the apartment, and he half expected to hear her bark out some snide retort. But there was nothing. No answer. No response.

"Liv." His voice was hesitant, unsure. He swallowed hard and took a step inside. And that was when he saw her. She was crumpled on the floor in the living room, the shattered remains of a vodka bottle beside her. "Oh, God, Liv. Olivia!"

In an instant, he was at her side. His eyes quickly scanned the living room, and he took in a second bottle across the room from her. He reached for the radio at his belt. "SVU to Manhattan Central. I need a bus at 203 West 85th Street." He knelt down beside her, gently rolling her over on her side and pulling her closer to his chest. He was relieved to hear her shallow breathing. "Liv. Liv, don't do this to me now," he pleaded. "Please. Liv, just tell me you can hear me. Just tell me that you know…" He drew in a shaky breath and his voice dropped down to a whisper. "Just tell me that you know I didn't mean it."

* * *


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

* * *

  
_Eight seconds._

It had taken eight seconds before he finally heard her draw in a shallow breath. Her face was deathly pale, her skin cold to the touch, her body completely lifeless. And yet he clung to her—hoping, praying for any sign of movement. But there was no movement. There was nothing but silence—a deafening silence that drowned out the radio's response and threatened to destroy everything.

They spoke volumes in silence—a knowing glance, a slight shift in movement, a tilt of the head…it didn't matter. He knew how to read all of it, knew exactly what she wanted, what she expected without the need for anything more. But he had no idea how to help her now. Because the silence that consumed them now was different. It was filled with loneliness and despair. It was despondent, a silence only penetrated by each new shallow gasp for air.

Eight seconds. Ten seconds.

Nine seconds…

"Elliot."

Elliot's head jerked up and the image in front of him dissolved. It took a moment for the voice in front of him to register. When it did, he swallowed hard. "Melinda. What are you doing here? Is she…"

Melinda's eyes softened. "No, Elliot. It's nothing like that. I have a friend who works in the ER. I came as soon as I heard." She let her eyes sweep over him for a moment as she assessed the situation. "How long have you been here?"

Elliot stared back at her blankly. "I…I don't know. Melinda, they haven't told me anything. I just…I need to know what's going on," he managed hoarsely.

Melinda reached out for his arm and led him aside to a quiet area of the lobby. When they were alone, she shifted her focus back over to him. "I'm afraid it's not very good, Elliot," she broke in gently. "She's still comatose."

Everything felt as if it were in slow motion. Elliot drew his head up slowly and swallowed hard. "Melinda, what the hell happened?"

She hesitated for a moment as she studied him carefully. Finally, she drew in a deep breath. "Olivia had a blood alcohol content of 0.32, Elliot. There were traces of hydrocodone and paracetamol in her blood stream. The drugs would have accelerated the effects of the alcohol."

Elliot stared back at her in surprise. "Hydrocodone and paracetamol—isn't that…"

"Vicodin," Melinda answered gently. "They ran a full CT scan when they brought her in just in case she sustained any injuries when she passed out."

"And…" Elliot drew in a shaky breath and struggled to remember. He had wanted to clear Olivia's airway, had focused on turning her over gently on her side. He hadn't even thought to stabilize her head or neck. He should have known better. He should have known he was hurting her.

"It showed signs of an anterior rib fracture most likely caused by blunt force trauma," Melinda answered gently. "The injury has healed, Elliot. It probably happened about nine months ago."

Elliot caught his breath. Nine months ago. Sealview. Harris.

Damn it. He had seen the bruises she hadn't been able to hide, had watched the way she pushed him away. And he had pretended not to notice, had pretended not to see the tears of frustration in her eyes as she altered her usual work-out routine to compensate. And every time she insisted she was fine, he wanted to believe her. Because he knew her. He knew she would never admit she wasn't fine. Every false protest that escaped her lips was yet another sign that she was hurting. And he hadn't done a damn thing about it. He had let her tell him that she was okay because he needed to believe her. He hadn't been prepared to admit she wasn't.

"Olivia wouldn't let us…she refused to go to the hospital for treatment. She wanted to be there to question Harris," he managed dully.

Melinda nodded. "Well, at some point she went in. She was issued a prescription for Vicodin around the same time—probably to deal with the pain from the fracture."

Olivia had gone in to see a doctor.

Olivia didn't do doctors. And she sure as hell didn't do hospitals. If the death glare she shot him didn't kill him, she'd kick his ass for offering her even an aspirin. She'd wait until nobody was looking before tossing back a couple from the stash hidden in her desk drawer. Because Olivia Benson didn't ask for help. She'd rather suffer in silence than admit she was dependant on anyone else.

"So now what?"

Melinda sighed. "Now we wait. As the alcohol was absorbed into her bloodstream, Olivia's body began to suppress the nervous system to try to counteract it. That's why she lost consciousness. Her body started to shut down to protect itself. As the alcohol constricted the blood vessels in her body, she started showing signs of hypothermia. They've managed to gradually warm her up and have been giving her intravenous fluids to bring up her glucose level and re-hydrate her. If they can keep her BAC from going up, hopefully they can prevent any further damage."

"How do they do that?"

"They use an oxygen therapy treatment to dilute any alcohol that hasn't already entered her bloodstream." Melinda paused. "Elliot, they're doing everything they can. At this point, no news is good news."

Elliot's voice was barely audible when he spoke again. "What about permanent damage?"

Melinda held his gaze for a long moment before she answered. She rested a hand lightly on his arm. "We don't know yet, Elliot. It's still too soon to tell."

* * *

  
"Has anyone seen Liv?"

Cragen turned around at the sound of Alex's voice. He shook his head before turning back to Munch and Fin. "Nope, she hasn't been in all morning."

Alex frowned. "Well, she's not answering her phone, and Petrovsky had to push her up on the docket. I need to get in touch with her now. What about Elliot?"

Fin snorted from his position behind her. "Good luck on that one."

Alex sighed and glanced back and forth between the three of them. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"World War III?" Munch suggested wryly, glancing up from the file still in his hand as he reached for the phone at his desk.

Fin shook his head. "World War III was a couple of years ago. Who knows what number we're on now."

Cragen rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Councilor. Apparently we can't help you out on that one, but you're just in time for an update on the case."

Alex diverted her attention back to the board in front of Fin. She frowned. "Okay, what have you got?"

"Olivia only took four men back to her apartment," Fin offered gesturing to the photos on the board. "Brian, Ellis, Terry, and Daniel—problem is, they're all bending over backwards to prove they left empty-handed."

Cragen sighed. "Usually not a good sign."

"Yes, particularly when we have no way to legally compel them to talk," Alex added, her voice tinged with regret. "We're not officially investigating this case so my hands are tied."

"That doesn't mean we have to tell them that," Fin added. He frowned. "We told them we had prints on the Glock, but none of them had a problem giving theirs up for comparison."

"Which means they either know that we don't have anything or our perp's still out there…" Cragen glanced back at the board and scanned the photos again.

"I'm guessing they're not our guy," Munch added dramatically. He dropped the phone in his hand back in the cradle. "Alibis check out for all four of them."

"Damn it." Fin turned away from the board to face the others. "That was our best lead."

"Great, so now that we've completely invaded her privacy and stripped her of her civil liberties for nothing, where do we go from here?" Munch answered with a sigh.

Silence was his only response.

Finally Cragen spoke up. "We go back to our first victim," he mused softly. "Maybe we can find an answer there." He jotted down a quick note and handed a piece of paper over to Munch. "Parents are Evan and Sharon Trenton. They just got back from a trip to Florida. Tread lightly, but see what you can find out. We need to somehow tie Michaela to Pasha and the rest of our vics."

As Munch and Fin headed out the door, Alex followed Cragen into his office. She stared back at him in silence for a long moment before she finally spoke. "What about Olivia?" she ventured quietly. "Don, if she doesn't show up for court this afternoon, Petrovsky will revoke her bail and throw her back in jail."

Cragen sighed. He reached for his trench coat before turning back around to face Alex. "I know," he agreed softly. "Don't worry, Alex. I'll take care of Olivia. Just give me a chance to try to talk to her."

* * *

  
"Sharon Trenton?"

The woman in front of them paled as the door swung open. She nodded silently before turning to look over her shoulder. "Evan. Evan, please hurry."

A figure instantly appeared at her side, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He glanced at the two men in the doorway and sighed wearily as both flashed their shields. "You're the police."

Munch nodded. "Detectives Munch and Tutuola—Special Victims Unit," he offered.

The man reached forward to shake their hands. "Evan Trenton—you must be here about Michaela."

"You mind if we come in and ask you a couple of questions?" Fin asked gently. He waited for a response before leading the way inside the tiny apartment.

Evan turned toward his wife as he watched the detectives take a seat in the living room. "Sharon, why don't you put on a pot of coffee," he suggested softly. She nodded quietly and disappeared. As soon as she was out of earshot, Evan sighed. "You'll have to excuse my wife. She becomes very withdrawn anytime the subject of Michaela comes up. She's never really gotten over her disappearance." Evan glanced back and forth. "Do you have anything new?"

Munch shook his head. "I'm sorry. There are no new leads on her whereabouts, but we'd like to ask you a couple of questions if you don't mind."

Evan nodded. "I'll help you in any way that I can, but I'm afraid I'm not going to be much help. Sharon and I were married after Michaela disappeared. I…I would have been Michaela's stepfather."

"What happened to Michaela's real father?" Fin demanded.

Evan hesitated. "You mean the son of a bitch that used to beat her every night when she got home from school?" He sighed. "His name is Dale Spring. He was just released from Rikers two months ago after getting busted on drug possession charges. The bastard only served two years of his sentence."

"It sounds like you think he might have been involved," Munch observed quietly.

Evan sighed. "I can't prove it. I just have my suspicions. Michaela used to step in when he'd hit my wife and take the beatings instead. Sharon has never forgiven herself for her disappearance."

"He would never hurt her." All three of them turned around at the sound of the voice behind them. "He's her father, and…and he loves her. Evan, please tell them that she's okay. Tell them that Dale would never hurt anyone."

Evan drew his wife in closer to him and shot them a helpless look over his shoulder. "Sharon, do you still have the last photo of Michaela from before she disappeared?" he asked her gently. She nodded quietly. He nudged her toward the door. "Why don't you find that for the detectives. Maybe it will help."

She nodded in response and quickly disappeared in the other direction.

As soon as she disappeared from sight, Evan walked across the room to a desk and opened the bottom drawer. He reached inside for an envelope before handing it over to Munch. "Last time the detectives came around, my wife refused to believe that something bad had happened to Michaela, but I don't trust my wife's ex-husband. Sharon wouldn't..." He swallowed hard. "She wouldn't let the detectives collect a DNA sample for your files." He sighed. "I just want to help her put this behind her. Whatever happens, we just need to know. Sharon's never going to be able to heal otherwise."

Munch nodded quietly and slid the envelope in his jacket pocket.

"I found it." Sharon came up behind Fin, a photo clutched tightly in her hand. She handed it over hesitantly. "Please, Detective…take good care of it. It's all I have left of her."

"I will." Fin agreed quietly. He stood up and glanced across the room at his partner. Munch nodded in response. "Thank you both for your time. We'll let you know if anything comes up."

As Evan escorted them to the door, Munch held out a card. "If you think of anything else, please let us know."

As Evan reached for the card, Fin came up behind him. "The number for Victim's Services is on the back," he added quietly. "If you can get her to agree to talk to them, it might help."

Evan nodded silently. He pushed the door open and let his eyes wander back and forth between both detectives. "Thank you."

* * *

  
There was still no answer.

Cragen leaned against the buzzer again and waited for a response from within. He sighed. Nothing. He turned back toward the sedan just as the door in front of him flew open. An older man stepped through and scurried down the sidewalk. Cragen reached forward to keep the door from closing and slid inside.

It had been awhile since he had been to her apartment. As he tried to orient himself, Cragen glanced around. The building was completely silent. No one appeared to be at home. He continued walking forward until he finally saw the staircase on the right hand side of the hallway. Letting his hand slide across the railing, Cragen took the stairs slowly, his mind racing to come up with something to say to her when he got there.

Her apartment was all the way down the hallway. He traced the path as if by memory and hesitated as he got closer to the door. A light flickered on and off just outside of her apartment, and Cragen reached over and tightened the bulb in place. Satisfied that he had fixed it, he turned back toward her apartment and froze. The door was ajar, a broken chain lock hanging by the fractured remains of the door jamb.

"Olivia!"

In one quick movement, he pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside. There was no response within. His eyes scanned the living room, and he hesitated. The sight in front of him was far too familiar. His eyes settled on the shattered remains of what appeared to be a bottle of vodka. It was halfway between the kitchen and the living room. Cragen closed his eyes. Damn it. He should have known; he should have been able to protect her. He reached down and picked up the cell phone lying on the floor only a couple feet away. Flipping it open, he scanned it quickly.

_7 Missed Calls. _

He picked up the phone and scrolled to the first number on the list—_Liv_. He hit the "send" button and listened closely. It took him six rings to find her phone abandoned in the bathroom. It was lying on the floor next to an open prescription bottle. The rest of the pills were scattered on the bathroom floor. Cragen reached for the bottle and scanned the label—_HYDROCO/APAP 5-500M…Do Not Drink Alcoholic Beverages While Taking This Medicine._ His eyes slid closed again, and out of habit, he reached for the phone in his jacket pocket.

His fingers were trembling as they fumbled for the correct number. When the ringing on the other end of the line stopped, he drew in a quick breath.

"Mercy General Emergency Room."

Cragen cleared his throat. "Yes, this is Captain Donald Cragen, Manhattan Special Victims Unit. I need to check and see if a patient was brought in to the ER either late last night or early this morning."

"Patient's name?"

He drew in a trembling breath. "Olivia Benson."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before the voice returned. "Yes, sir. She was admitted to the ER early this morning and has now been transferred to ICU."

Cragen swallowed hard. As he started toward the door, he fought to control the emotion in his voice. "Just tell me…how bad is it?"

* * *

  
"Don't you find it the least bit odd that Warner is out of the lab today?"

Fin rolled his eyes. "No, she's allowed to take a day off," he protested. "Trust me, once this case is over, I'm taking a well-deserved vacation and going somewhere where I can kick back, relax, and think about anything other than this job."

"That sounds like an idea," Munch mused as he slammed the car door shut behind him and started up the stairs toward the precinct.

A small smile pulled at the corner of Fin's lips as he surveyed his partner's response to his next words. "I hear that Mexico is beautiful this time of year."

Munch pushed open the door in front of him and snorted. "I'm not going to Mexico. With the whole swine flu epidemic going on there?" He took a deep breath. "You know a public health official believes that this new strain of H1N1 is genetically engineered and could be an assassination attempt on…"

"Oh, here we go again," Fin muttered.

The sound of Fin's phone ringing interrupted both of them. "Tutuola."

There was complete silence as Fin listened to the voice on the other end of the line. He gestured for Munch to stop walking and took a deep breath. "Wait a minute…what hospital?" After a slight pause, he nodded silently. "All right, Melinda. We'll be right there," he managed grimly. He snapped his phone shut and turned toward his partner.

"What was that all about?" Munch demanded.

Fin swallowed hard. "Olivia's in the hospital—she's been in a coma the last few hours."

Munch's head snapped up. "What the hell happened?"

"A combination of prescription drugs and a blood alcohol content of 0.32," Fin admitted slowly. He sighed. "She just woke up." He turned around and started back toward the sedan. After a moment, he realized that his partner was no longer following him. He turned back around slowly. "Come on, John. Aren't you coming?"

Munch's face was suddenly pale. He shook his head. "Go ahead without me," he managed softly, his voice defeated. His eyes dropped down to the floor. "I'll stay here."

* * *

  
_He was there._

Olivia's eyes fluttered open and settled on the figure seated across the hospital room from her. Absolute panic settled over her. He was there. Elliot was there. Elliot wasn't supposed to be there. He was supposed to be gone. He had told her not to expect him to be there. And yet here he was. Here. With her. In some damn hospital room. Olivia allowed her eyes to slip closed again. God, just thinking about it made her head hurt.

"Are you awake?"

Briefly, her eyes opened before she slammed them shut again. "No."

She waited. Waited for him to accept her answer, to retreat, to disappear. Anything. Anything except remind her he was still here. Remind her that he was going to walk away from her all over again.

After a moment, she peeked out. He was still there, this time leaning against the frame of the doorway, the expression on his face hidden from view. God, she needed to see it. She needed to read him as much as she needed oxygen. Because not knowing what was going through his head, not knowing when he was going to walk out was more than she could take. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. "You're still here."

He nodded silently. "Yeah."

Olivia's breath hitched slightly, her voice suddenly trembling. "Why?"

As he turned toward her, she finally saw his face, saw his eyes. And she stilled. Her body was frozen in place. She barely recognized the expression in his eyes. They were tinted with pain and grief and a dozen other emotions that had no business being there. "Did you really…" He swallowed hard. "Did you really expect me to leave, Liv?"

This time it was her turn to remain silent. She nodded almost imperceptibly and dropped her gaze away from his before he could read the expression in her eyes. His voice drew her back. "Liv, what happened?" Her eyes searched for his, holding them for a long moment until finally she saw the truth within them. The weight behind his unspoken words crushed her. She bit down on her bottom lip. "You think that I…" She took a deep breath and tried again. "You think I did this on purpose?"

Elliot swallowed hard, the look on his face uncertain. "I don't know what to think, Liv."

"El, I didn't…I mean I would never..." She dropped her eyes away from his. "I thought you knew me better than that."

He nodded in response as if contemplating his next words very carefully. His voice was even when he finally spoke. "What exactly did you expect to happen when you downed two bottles of vodka and a handful of painkillers, Olivia?"

She hesitated. "El, I never drank two…"

"Save it, Liv," he interrupted her sharply. He blew out the breath he had been holding. "I don't care how much you had last night. You had a blood alcohol level that was four times the legal limit. So just tell me why?"

"I don't know." The words sounded empty to her own ears. Olivia sighed. "I just…I wanted it all to go away. I just wanted to feel something."

He nodded quietly. "Did it work?"

Her voice was barely more than a whisper when it escaped. "No."

Silence enveloped them. A silence that spoke far more than words ever could, a silence that treaded cautiously on a line that she knew was about to be crossed. Walls had been constructed. Boundaries had been set. And all were supposed to be impermeable. Because as long as they were, she was safe. As long as they didn't talk about it, she could protect him. She could control her emotions. She could control her life. Because she wasn't a victim. She was a cop. And Elliot was her partner. Elliot was her partner, and it was her responsibility to protect him, to keep him safe.

"Liv, I know you think you can do this by yourself, but you don't have to. Just tell me why…" Elliot swallowed hard. "Why didn't you tell me what happened at Sealview?"

Every wall she had ever built collapsed under the weight of his words. Olivia searched his eyes as if somehow within them, she could finally find a piece of herself, could finally find a piece of the strength she so desperately needed.

He must have sensed her panic because before she could say a word, he dropped his head into his hands, cursing lightly under his breath. "I'm sorry." His voice was shaking. "Liv, that's not what I meant. I had no right to accuse you of…" He turned back toward the door and was halfway there when her tentative voice stopped him cold.

"El…"

He was hurting, and it was all her fault. Olivia blinked hard. She needed to help him finally understand the truth. She drew her head up slowly, her eyes darting over to his for a brief moment before they settled back on her hands. "El, I…I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to feel like you had failed me."

He drew in his breath sharply. "Liv, if this is about me not being there, I…"

"No, El." Olivia hadn't even realized she was holding her breath. She released it slowly and fought for control over her voice. "It's not that you weren't there. But I…"

As much as she tried to fight against it, her voice was suddenly trembling. "I'm not the same person I was before Sealview, and I know… I know that all you want to do is fix what happened, but this isn't something you can fix, El. There's a part of me that's…that's broken, and as much as you want to change that, you just can't."

* * *


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

* * *

_There's a part of me that's…that's broken, and as much as you want to change that, you just can't._

Elliot drew his head up slowly. He wasn't sure if it was the words themselves or the fact that she couldn't look at him as she said them that scared him most. Because all of a sudden he couldn't remember the last time she felt safe enough to let him see within her. He swallowed hard. "Liv, look at me."

She turned her eyes toward him for a brief moment before they shifted away, focusing on the edge of the bed instead. His heart froze within his chest and his eyes flew down to her hands as he watched her restlessly wring them together while waiting for his response. His voice was filled with emotion when he spoke. "You're not broken, Liv."

He waited for an answer—searched for anything he could use to understand her again. He knew that the slight tilt of her head and a glance upward meant that she was desperate to convince him she was okay. He knew that she unconsciously tucked her chin inward and widened her eyes when he said something that took her by surprise or that she kept her gaze straight ahead and studied him out of the corner of her eye when she was worried about him and didn't want him to know. She would shake her head when she was frustrated and nod when she was trying to convince him of something. She would chew on her bottom lip when she was nervous and her chest would heave with shallow breaths when she was upset.

But now, there was no response. There was nothing but a hollowness that left no room for interpretation. There were vacant eyes that refused to allow anyone else in for fear of what they might find.

And he had no idea how to deal with that.

There was no fear, no terror, no angst, and no pain reflected in her eyes. They were completely empty. Elliot fought back the need to yell at her, to cry, to scream, or do anything to instigate something familiar. Because he needed something that he recognized, needed to somehow feel as if he knew what she was going through.

"You're wrong," she whispered.

As she shifted toward him, he caught a glimmer of something familiar. He swallowed hard. "It's been about nine months now, hasn't it?"

Olivia drew her head up slowly to meet Elliot's steady gaze. Her face didn't move, but her eyes darted away from his, studying the edge of the doorway. When she spoke, her voice was trembling. "Nine months since what, El?"

"Sealview."

Olivia turned back toward him, her eyes downcast. His gaze refused to waver. She nodded silently. "Why does that matter?"

"Your mother had you nine months after her rape," he responded quietly. "Did you…did you think she was broken?"

Olivia's head snapped up and a soft sigh escaped. "El, this has nothing to do with my mother."

He nodded quietly. "It has everything to do with your mother. Simone told me…she told me how she found your mother that day. Liv, you can't tell me that what happened last night wasn't in some way related to that."

"El, my mother was raped. She had every right to do those things."

Elliot could see her fighting back tears, and more than anything, he wanted to pull her close. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her it was going to be okay. But he couldn't do it. He didn't dare. He was afraid to breathe, afraid to touch her. He was afraid that the slightest movement might hurt her again. Or scare her. Or send her running away forever.

"Is that what this is all about?" Elliot approached the edge of the bed and silently pleaded for her to look at him. "Liv, it doesn't matter if you weren't actually raped. You were sexually assaulted. You're right about not blaming your mother for doing the things that she did, but you can't blame yourself either." He swallowed hard. "Not even for what happened last night. Liv, it's okay to feel something. It's okay to be upset or angry or even to cry. You have every right to feel those emotions. And nobody will ever look down at you for showing that."

Elliot blinked hard and prayed that his next words wouldn't send her running away. "Liv, I've been trying to force you to do something that you're not ready to do, and I'm sorry. I can't change that. But what happens from here on out is… it's up to you. It's your decision, and if you need space, I'll understand that." He drew in a shaky breath and waited until she finally raised her eyes to meet his. "But Liv, even if I can't change anything that's happened, I won't be able to live with myself if I have to watch you go through this alone."

* * *

"Finally…"

Cragen froze midway through pacing back and forth in front of the nursing station. He glanced up quickly. "Melinda, what are you doing back here? I thought you were…"

Melinda rolled her eyes. "I was going back to work," she filled in. "Until you stopped answering your phone."

Cragen snapped his head up in surprise. He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and glanced at the display.

_3 Missed Calls._

He winced. "Sorry, I didn't hear it ring."

She nodded at the nurse's station in front of him. There was nobody in sight. "Cell phone service is pretty patchy in here—it would explain why I couldn't get through. How long have you been waiting?"

Cragen groaned. "Too long, about an hour. I can't seem to get ahold of anyone to find out what room she's in."

"There was a head on collision involving a tour bus," Melinda filled him in. "It's going to be awhile before you get anyone down here."

He sighed. "Great."

Melinda arched her eyebrows and started walking down a hallway off to his left. "I can show you to her room, but Don, that's not why I'm here."

Cragen stopped and turned toward her slowly. With one hand, he reached for her shoulder and turned her around to face him. "What now?"

"Come on, walk with me," Melinda instructed him gently as she turned back toward the hallway and resumed her earlier pace. "O'Halloran called with the results from Michaela Spring's DNA sample." She paused in front of a door at the end of the hall. "We got a match."

Cragen let out his breath slowly and stared at the door in front of him. "Who is she?" he asked softly.

"A Jane Doe," Melinda responded, turning back toward him. "Her body was found about two weeks ago."

"She was murdered."

Melinda shook her head. "No, that's just it. Her death wasn't ruled a homicide. And when I pulled the notes from her autopsy report to find out why, I called you right away. There's something else I think you should know about."

* * *

A soft knock sounded at the door. Munch didn't even bother to look up. "I don't want to talk about it." As soon as the words escaped, he waited for a response, his hands clasped behind his head and a guarded expression on his face.

His only reply was the soft footsteps that came toward him, stopping just a few feet away. He heard the mattress across from him creak under the weight of its new occupant, and he finally opened his eyes. Huang nodded toward him. "Okay, so why not go home? Why stay here in the crib?"

Munch's eyes flitted briefly over to glare at Huang before returning back overhead as he studied the bunk directly above him. His voice was serious when he finally spoke. "I didn't feel like going home."

"Because you didn't want to be home alone or because you didn't want to miss any word on Olivia?" Huang ventured quietly.

"Olivia's fine," Munch retorted sharply.

"Physically, yes…" Huang agreed slowly. He hesitated for a brief moment before plunging forward. "You're angry with her. Why?"

"I told you I don't want to talk about it."

Huang shifted his weight again, his eyes never straying from the figure lying across from him. "Sometimes talking can be therapeutic."

Munch sighed. "No, a break from this place is therapeutic. Talking is just a colossal waste of time and effort that epitomizes the very fact that we are all human beings and that whatever misguided effort we put into understanding one another will undoubtedly cause further angst and pain." He propped himself up on his elbows and peered over his glasses at Huang. "No offense, Doc, but I don't need a shrink."

Huang nodded silently in response. "I never said you did."

Munch fell backward again. "You didn't need to. Your presence here says it all," he grumbled. "Look Doc, why don't you go talk to someone who needs you?"

"You mean like Olivia?" Huang prodded gently.

Silence was his only answer.

"You're angry at her for not talking to someone," Huang ventured quietly. He studied the expression on Munch's face carefully. "Why?"

"No, you're wrong," Munch countered dully. "Olivia tried to talk to me. I just…didn't listen."

Huang paused for a moment as if contemplating his next words carefully. "John, what happened isn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done."

"Yeah…sure," Munch smirked, his voice suddenly fierce. He swallowed hard. "I could have listened to her. I could have stopped her."

"How?" Huang asked gently. "John, what did she say to make you think you could have changed any of this?"

Munch closed his eyes as if somehow doing so could block out the words revolving through his head in a never ending cycle.

_I can't say I wouldn't think about suicide…_

Munch's eyes slid open again, and he swallowed the knot in his throat. "She said she might consider suicide," he finally admitted quietly.

Huang arched his eyebrow in surprise. "She told you she was suicidal? When did she tell you this?"

_I don't know. If I had something like Huntington's disease, and all I had to look forward to was a long and horrible death, I can't say I wouldn't think about suicide._

Munch drew his head up slowly. "During the Amy Solwey case. She said that if all she had to look forward to was a long and horrible death, she might consider suicide. I should have known that she was suffering, and I should have…I should have been able to stop her."

Huang nodded silently. He studied Munch carefully. "John," he began slowly. "Olivia didn't do this on purpose."

Munch's gaze snapped over to him. "What are you talking about? Of course she did. She said…"

"John," Huang interrupted softly. "That was five years ago." He took a deep breath. "Olivia's not your father, but she does need your help. Don't walk away from her now."

* * *

"Can I come in?"

The panic on Olivia's face was his only response. Cragen snapped his phone shut and hesitated at the doorway. "Look if this is a bad time, I can always…"

Elliot shook his head and turned toward Olivia. She nodded silently, and he stood up quickly. "No, come on in. I'll just…I'm going to grab a quick cup of coffee." He started toward the door and froze. Slowly, he turned back around. "Is that…okay?"

"Only if you promise to bring me one back." An amused smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I'm fine, El. Go on…grab a cup of coffee."

As soon as he disappeared, Cragen glanced around for a moment at the empty room and hesitated as if trying to find the words to speak. "Munch and Fin couldn't make it. I sent them over to talk to Melinda."

Olivia nodded. "A break in the case?"

Cragen shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure yet. But it's a lead. I'll take whatever I can get. Look Liv, I'm sorry," he finally managed.

Olivia swallowed hard and averted her eyes away from his. "Look Captain, I don't expect you to let me come back…"

"Olivia," Cragen interrupted her softly.

Olivia shook her head and continued, "…after everything that's happened, and I just wanted to tell you that I understand…"

"Olivia." He tried again, a little bit louder. Finally she drew her head up slowly. "I'm sorry I didn't see what you were going through," he finished quietly.

"Captain, I don't want your pity," Olivia returned, her voice soft and vulnerable. "I don't deserve it. I screwed up, not you. And if you're telling me this because you somehow feel responsible, then don't. It was my decision to go to Sealview. No one else is responsible."

"You're right. No one else is responsible…including you, Olivia. Lowell Harris is the one to blame for what happened at Sealview, not you."

Olivia nodded silently. "For what happened at Sealview," she agreed. "But not for what happened afterwards. Captain, I…"

"Let me finish," Cragen demanded softly. He sighed. "When I was on the bottle, I had my share of regrettable moments. And unfortunately, too many of them happened on the job. I did a hell of a lot of things I regret today and…" Cragen swallowed the knot in his throat. "And I was lucky that I had someone there to stand beside me and not show me the door." He paused and watched as her eyes lowered ever so slightly.

"What made you stop drinking?" Olivia asked quietly.

He took a deep breath. "My partner," he admitted softly. "Max Greevey—he tried to help me see what I was doing to myself, but I wouldn't listen. I thought I was in control of my drinking…thought I could handle myself."

Olivia nodded. "So what happened?"

"The next thing I know I'm standing in the middle of Lexington Avenue with my gun drawn on some poor taxi driver." Cragen took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. "I didn't like the way he was honking." He glanced around before pulling a chair closer to the bed so that he could speak to her at eye level. "Olivia, I'm not going to pretend that what you did last night was the right thing to do, but I do understand it. Now I'm certainly not the person to judge you for it, but you do need to get help. And you need to make sure it doesn't happen again if you ever want to come back to this unit."

Olivia drew her head up slowly. "You're giving me another chance? Captain, this isn't the first time I've screwed up."

He nodded. "I know," he agreed quietly. "So let it be your last. Olivia, take some time to get through this trial and to get better for you. You'll know when you're ready to come back, but you can't keep pushing yourself like you are now. You'll never be any good to the rest of us if you do. And we all need you to come back. Elliot needs you to come back. Don't let him down now."

* * *


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

* * *

  
"Do you want to talk about it?"

Elliot drew his head up slowly and allowed his eyes to settle on Huang's figure standing in front of him. He shook his head and turned toward the cappuccino machine in front of him. He shoved a dollar bill in the machine and slammed his hand on the button before leaning in to the machine. He swallowed hard. "No."

Huang watched him closely for a moment before he spoke. "Because you're afraid to talk about it or because you think beating up a cappuccino machine is going to yield better results?"

Elliot glared back at him. "I didn't say that…I'm not trying to…" He sighed. "I don't even know what the hell happened."

"You don't know what happened last night or you don't know what happened…"

"I don't know anything that's happened for the last nine months," Elliot shot back. His voice broke as he flattened both palms against the edge of the machine, leaning in toward it. "Her ribs were fractured, and I… I didn't even ask her if she needed to go to the hospital."

Huang nodded quietly. "And do you think she would have gone if you had asked?"

Elliot swallowed hard. "No," he answered dully. "Not in front of me."

"And that bothers you?" Huang asked gently.

"I'm not gonna do this with you." Elliot staggered backward. He glanced around wildly. "I don't need this right now."

"Maybe this is exactly what you need."

"No. No, it's not," Elliot retorted. He whipped back around and took an unsteady step away from Huang. "I don't need you in my head!"

He made it as far as the barren hallway before he stopped. Trying to regain his composure, Elliot turned toward the wall, slamming his fists into it until he felt the accompanying stab of pain. He didn't bother to turn around, but somehow he sensed Huang's presence behind him. His voice was still shaking when he spoke. "I keep trying to imagine what happened down in that basement, but every time I try, the things that go through my head…" He swallowed hard. "You don't even want to know."

"Elliot, if you want to talk about it…"

Elliot's shoulders tensed instinctively. "No, I don't…I don't _need_ to talk about it. I just need these images to go away." He slammed his fists into the wall again.

Huang's voice was quiet. "What images, Elliot?" he asked gently.

Elliot's voice was dull, devoid of all emotion. "I thought there was nothing worse than picturing what he did to her down in that basement, but now…"

Elliot turned back around and felt his legs give out from underneath him. He let his eyes flutter shut as he slid down the wall to the floor. When they opened again, he stared straight in front of him. "Now, all I can see is her limp body lying in my arms." He drew his head up slowly. "I thought I lost her, George. And…and the whole time, the only think I could think of was that I didn't even know why."

* * *

  
"Suicide? Are you sure?"

Melinda nodded to Fin uncertainly. "I'm afraid so. There's no evidence anywhere to indicate she was pushed. I've reviewed all of the notes from her autopsy, and I'm going to have to agree with the original ruling. The fall causing Michaela Spring's death was self-inflicted."

Munch rolled his eyes. "Ah, so your story is she just decided to take a stroll around the block and forgot she was four stories up."

Melinda shook her head and dropped down in her desk chair. "The evidence doesn't lie, Detectives—and that's what it's saying." She sighed, leaning back in her chair.

Fin glanced at his partner. "Okay, so she couldn't handle being raped by her teacher and decided jumping off the side of a building looked like an easier way out."

Munch shook his head. "I'm telling you this girl was pushed. Sandra Clay gave her the perfect out when she took Michaela to the hospital for a rape kit. She could have gotten help. So why recant her story? Why go back to her rapist? It doesn't make any sense. This girl was terrified."

"You think someone was tryin' to shut her up," Fin amended.

"Well, if they were, it was for a good reason," Melinda added. She waited for their gazes to settle back on her before continuing. "Michaela Spring may not have been pregnant when they brought her in for her rape kit, but she was when she died."

"Ah, so Pasha did almost get his little love child?" Munch observed.

Melinda shook her head. "No, he didn't—the DNA doesn't match. Michaela's baby wasn't Pasha's but if you find me the father, I can run his DNA and compare it to the fetus."

"How far along was she?" Fin added with a sigh.

Melinda's voice was grim when she spoke. She glanced back and forth between the two detectives. "Eight weeks."

"Oh, great," Munch muttered. He nodded toward Melinda as they headed out the door. "So we have a fifteen year old who was pregnant and a twenty year old who's trying to become pregnant."

"You mean Hannah?" Fin interrupted.

Munch nodded. "How many teenagers do you know who actually want to be mothers? Sandra Clay said Michaela was desperate for a baby. What I want to know is why."

"Well, Michaela's obviously not talkin'," Fin grunted as he followed Munch outside the morgue to the awaiting sedan. He slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut behind him. "So I guess it's up to Hannah."

* * *

  
"Elliot Stabler?"

Elliot's head snapped up at the young man who stood in front of him. He nodded silently in response and struggled to find his voice. "That's me." He hesitated. "Is everything okay?"

The doctor nodded and glanced hesitantly over at Huang before turning back to Elliot. "Olivia's fine. I'm Dr. Sandoval, her doctor." His voice was quiet. "Olivia had you listed as her next of kin and gave us permission to discuss her medical condition with you."

Huang hesitated. "Elliot, I think I'll go check in with Cragen," he interrupted softly. He held out a single cup of coffee before turning to leave. "Here, you left this in the machine."

Elliot's fingers tightened around the steaming cup in his hand as he waited for the doctor to speak. "What's wrong?" he demanded as soon as Huang was out of earshot.

Dr. Sandoval smiled reassuringly. "Nothing's wrong. Olivia's doing well. She should be just about ready to go back home." He glanced down at the chart in his hand. "Her medical records are pretty sparse, and she was pretty out of it when we tried to get details from her. She said to come to you so we're hoping you might be able to help us out."

Elliot released the breath he had been holding. He nodded. "Yeah, her mother wasn't very good at keeping up on that." He sighed. "Not that she does much better. No offense Doc, but Olivia doesn't do doctors or hospitals. She doesn't like to admit she can't take care of herself."

Dr. Sandoval chuckled softly. "Don't worry, I get that a lot." He hesitated. "Can I ask what your relationship is to her?"

"Sure, I'm her partner. We've been together for almost eleven years," Elliot answered quickly. His lips twisted into a half smile. "It's my job to take care of her whether she'll let me or not."

Dr. Sandoval nodded and relaxed. "Well medically speaking, she's okay, but I'm a little concerned about the circumstances leading up to her overdose." He studied Elliot's face carefully. "It's probably best if she has someone she trusts close by her for awhile to make sure she's doing okay."

Elliot nodded in agreement. "Olivia will be more comfortable at the House," he answered slowly. "I can stay with her as long as she'll let me."

"I'd also like to prescribe an anti-depressant for her," Dr. Sandoval added. "Does she have any allergies to any medications that you're aware of?"

"She had an allergic reaction to Amoxicillin when she was about eight years old," Elliot began slowly, wracking his brain for the information Olivia had given him several years ago. "And a couple of years ago, she came down with bronchitis and was prescribed Azithromycin—she had nausea, dizziness, hallucinations…but it doesn't matter. She's not going to take an anti-depressant."

Dr. Sandoval made a quick note on the chart. "That's why I'm talking to you," he added quietly. His eyes flew back to the paperwork in his hand. "Does she smoke?"

Elliot shook his head. "Never."

"How often does she drink?"

Elliot's voice was tense when he spoke. "Occasionally—she's a social drinker. This isn't normal for her."

"Okay," Dr. Sandoval's tone softened slightly. "I know she had several surgeries associated with a car accident several years ago. Anything else that you're aware of?"

Elliot shook his head again, his voice suddenly quiet at the realization that he had no idea that the doctor was talking about. It had to be the accident where her husband was killed. His throat tightened. Olivia hadn't told him she'd needed surgery. "Not that I know of."

"What about other hospitalizations or procedures? Anything else besides the abortion?"

Elliot stared back at him in shock. _The abortion_. The words had been thrown out there so casually he wasn't sure if he heard him correctly. _Abortion_. His mouth suddenly went dry. The breath drained from his body, and the doctor's words dissipated as he stared in front of him.

"Elliot," Dr. Sandoval prodded softly. "Anything else you can think of?"

Elliot snapped back to attention as he tried to figure out what the doctor had just asked him. He blinked. "She fractured her ribs earlier this year and was admitted overnight for observation after she was poisoned a couple of years ago." He struggled to remember when, but there were only two words on his mind. _Olivia. Abortion._ He drew his head up slowly. "And she had stitches a couple of times after she was attacked on the job, but she was never admitted to the hospital," he finished slowly.

Dr. Sandoval nodded. "Okay, unless there's anything else you can think of, let me just get her paperwork ready to go so you can take her home."

Elliot swallowed hard. "Okay," he whispered quietly. He waited until the doctor disappeared before rounding the corner toward her room. She was still in there with Cragen.

_Anything else besides the abortion. _

"Excuse me. Can I help you sir?" A young nurse appeared beside him. Elliot struggled to concentrate on the voice in front of him. "Yeah," he answered quietly. He studied the edge of the doorway. "I just wanted to make sure she gets a ride home. I've uh…I've just been called back to work."

* * *

  
"God, I hate being drunk."

Cragen glanced back up at Olivia, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "I'd offer to get you that cup of coffee, but you know that wouldn't really help either."

She groaned from her position in bed. "Please tell me I didn't really say all of that to Elliot."

"You didn't really say all of that to Elliot."

Olivia shot him a death glare. "Don't you have more important places to be right now?"

Cragen smirked. "Sorry, I've been appointed to bring you to court. Petrovsky is not going to like it if you're late again." He glanced at his watch before hitting a call button to summon a nurse. "And by my calculations, I think the alcohol should be out of your system right about now."

A nurse appeared in the doorway. She approached the bed, wheeling a cart over and began checking Olivia's vitals.

"God, this is embarrassing," Olivia muttered under her breath. She glanced up at her captain. "You can leave now."

"And miss this?" Cragen countered, amused. "Not a chance."

The nurse glanced up from the paperwork in front of her. "It looks like you're good to go." She glanced over at Cragen. "I have a message that…" She glanced down at the scrawled note in front of her. "Elliot had to go back to work. Are you able to make sure she gets home okay?"

Cragen nodded quietly. "Yeah, I've got her."

The nurse smiled. "Good." Her voice was suddenly serious. "Go easy on the alcohol next time, Olivia—I don't want to see you back in here again."

Olivia's voice was quiet. "Trust me, I've learned my lesson." She swung her legs around the side of the bed. "If Petrovsky doesn't kill me first, Alex should. What is this going to do for my case?"

Cragen looked up and met her eyes, his voice suddenly soft. "There's only one way to find out."

* * *

  
"Hannah, it's Detective Tutuola. Can I come in?"

Fin knocked on the door a little bit louder. After a moment, he nudged it open gently. The door swung open silently.

Hannah was seated in a chair next to the window. She stared straight ahead out the window and didn't bother to turn her head at the voice behind her. Her voice was soft when she finally spoke. "Do you think it's my fault?"

Fin glanced back at Munch, and he nodded, retreating back into the living room. Fin stepped through the doorway alone and crossed the room to take a seat on the edge of the bed. "Is what your fault?" he asked gently.

"Pasha, Olivia…I don't know—all of it."

"Of course not, Hannah."

"Regina thinks it's her fault," Hannah confided in him. She turned her head to study the expression on Fin's face. "But she was just trying to take care of me. She was just trying to protect me."

"Who did she think you needed protection from?" Fin asked gently.

"Pasha." Hannah rolled her eyes. "Regina's never wanted me to grow up. She didn't think I was old enough to have a baby, but I know that Pasha would have helped me be a good mother."

"Having a child is a pretty scary thing," Fin confessed. He turned to face her. "I sure as hell screwed it up."

Hannah raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "You have a kid?" she countered. She hesitated. "Do you have a picture?"

Fin nodded. "Yeah, I have a son—his name's Ken." He pulled out his wallet and handed her a photo. "He's about the same age as you are now."

She studied the photo carefully before handing it back to him. "So if he's my age now, why's his photo so old?"

Fin swallowed hard. "I don't get to see him as much as I should," he answered softly. He turned away from her, focusing straight ahead. "My job got in the way, and I wasn't there for him when I should have been. I think sometimes it's still hard for him to deal with that."

"That's what I was always afraid of," Hannah whispered. She hesitated. "Not being there for my baby." She waited for Fin to turn back toward her before continuing. "I'm in the studio a lot of late hours, and I've been to a lot of tech rehearsals where a mother is on stage dancing while her child is crying in the back of the house. I…I never wanted to be that mom, but Pasha said…he said it would be okay. He promised me that all of the other girls had done it."

"Hannah, what other girls?" Fin asked carefully.

"From the home," she responded simply. She turned back toward him. "Ms. Margaret has a home for unwed mothers. She helps take good care of them and makes sure the babies are born healthy. He promised me that she could help me too."

* * *

  
"How nice of you to grace us with your presence, Ms. Benson."

Olivia swallowed hard and watched as Petrovsky's sharp gaze settled over her.

_Ms. Benson._

Not _Detective_, but _Ms._—the lack of a title in front of her name snapped her back to reality. Olivia lifted her chin ever so slightly. "I'm sorry, your Honor. It won't happen again."

"It better not. We've waited long enough for this trial to start." Petrovsky nodded over to the prosecution before settling back in her chair. "Now, are we ready for opening arguments?"

"Yes, your Honor." Tracy Kibre rose to her feet without another word, rotating slowly to face the jury. She cleared her throat, her voice suddenly clear and strong as she addressed the court room.

"Ladies and gentleman of the jury, we are here today because Pasha Bolotovsky was brutally executed in his home after the defendant, Olivia Benson discovered that he had allegedly raped her niece, Hannah Leawood. Now many of you may be thinking that he deserved what he got, but Pasha Bolotovsky never had the opportunity for a fair trial. Olivia Benson shot him in cold blood and then confessed to his murder. Evidence collected after her confession supports that claim, and history shows that she becomes violent when placed in stressful situations. Regardless of Pasha Bolotovsky's guilt or innocence, no one has the right to execute him. And no one is above the law…including Detective Olivia Benson."

As Tracy returned to her seat, Alex drew herself to her feet, allowing her eyes to sweep across the jury, meeting each individual's gaze for just a moment before finally settling back on Olivia. She took a deep breath and turned back to the awaiting jury.

"Thank you all for being here. I am both honored and saddened to introduce you to the woman who sits in front of you today. Olivia Benson has survived more tragedy than I hope any man, woman, or child in this courtroom ever has to endure. She grew up with a single mother who was an alcoholic, knowing full well that the only reason for her entire existence was because she was the product of her own mother's rape. She grew up not really understanding what a family was and when she finally found one of her own, her husband and child were both killed in a tragic automobile accident. Alcohol killed her mother a few years later."

Alex glanced up for a moment before continuing.

"Throughout her career, Olivia has been wounded by a knife on three separate occasions, held at gun point more than a dozen times, and just nine months ago, she was violently attacked and sexually assaulted while working undercover in a prison."

Alex shifted her gaze back to Olivia.

"Olivia had plenty of reasons to be angry, or upset," she continued quietly. "But she didn't dwell on them. Instead, she devoted her life to finding justice for a mother who never saw it and to every victim who needed a voice. Second-grade Detective Olivia Benson has over ten years of dedicated service with the Special Victims Unit in the New York City Police Department. She is reminded of her painful past every day of her life as she works tirelessly to find justice for every man, woman, and child that has ever been victimized by physical or sexual violence."

Alex turned toward Tracy Kibre for a brief moment before beginning again.

"Now, the prosecution will tell you that none of this matters—that she confessed to this crime, and they're right. But Olivia Benson didn't confess because she's guilty. She confessed for the same reason that she will not allow me to bring in any one of the many men and women she has helped throughout the years. Because Olivia has spent her entire life protecting those in need."

Alex turned helplessly toward Olivia.

"I wanted to bring a couple of the men and women that she has helped into this courtroom so that they could personally tell you what a difference she has made in their lives, but Olivia wouldn't allow me to do that. She couldn't bear to make anyone relive their own tragedy in order to help her put this behind her."

Alex allowed her gaze to slide back over to the jury.

"Yes, Pasha Bolotovsky was accused of raping her niece, and trust me when I tell you that nothing would have given her greater satisfaction than seeing him convicted of that crime. But she didn't kill him. Olivia Benson is not capable of murdering a man in cold blood no matter who he's hurt. It goes against everything she has ever fought for, and I fully intend to prove that to you..."

* * *

"What was that?"

Alex flipped open her phone and checked to see if she had missed any messages while court was in session. "What was what?" she mumbled absent-mindedly.

Olivia stared back at her as if she'd grown a second head. "That…your opening arguments."

"Olivia, we talked about this," Alex broke in gently. "Now I know that you don't want to bring up any of this, but it's going to come out. The prosecution is going to drag your entire past through the mud. They're going to say you killed Pasha because you were desperate to protect the only family you had left. I don't want them finding out about any of that from them. It needs to come directly from you."

_Her husband and child were both killed in a tragic automobile accident._

Olivia closed her eyes. "Alex, you just lied to the jury," she shot back. She suddenly felt nauseated. "Why didn't you tell me what you were going to say? I could have stopped you."

Alex turned to her in confusion. "What are you talking about, Liv?" she asked quietly.

Olivia hesitated. She fought back the panic that swept over her at revealing the truth. She opened her mouth to speak and then slammed it shut as she fought for the words to tell her the truth. She took a seat at a nearby bench and waited for Alex to follow her. They sat together in silence for a long moment before she finally spoke. "Alex, I…my daughter wasn't killed in the accident," she finally admitted quietly. "I had an abortion."

There was a stunned silence as Alex struggled to process the information. "Olivia, if the prosecution knows about this, they're going to bury you…you should have told me this earlier," she broke in softly.

Olivia nodded. "I know." She closed her eyes. "I just didn't want Elliot to find out," she admitted quietly. "I couldn't tell him the truth, Alex. He'd never be able to understand. He'd never be able to forgive me." Her voice broke. "That's why I…that's why I never told anybody about Stephen."

Alex was silent for a moment. "Okay." She sighed and took a deep breath. "Then it's time you start back at the beginning. If you want me to help you, I need you to tell me everything."

* * *


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

* * *

"Please state your name for the record."

Cragen drew his head up slowly and met Tracy Kibre's cool gaze. His voice was calm and collected when he spoke. "Captain Donald Cragen."

Tracy nodded. "Captain Cragen, how long has Detective Benson been working under you?"

"About ten and a half years."

Tracy took a step toward the stand, her stance casual and relaxed. "And in that ten and a half years, how would you describe her work?"

"She's one of my best detectives," he responded quietly.

Tracy nodded for a moment and studied him carefully. She lifted an eyebrow innocently. "Why? What makes her such a great detective?"

Cragen's voice was cautious as he answered her. "She's professional, dedicated…she knows how to talk to the victims so they open up to her."

"Professional, dedicated…" Tracy considered the words as they left her lips. "What about violent?"

Cragen shook his head firmly. "Absolutely not."

"But she's killed two people before this, right?" Tracy countered.

Cragen hesitated. "She shot two armed suspects and prevented them from taking another life. That's what she's trained to do."

Tracy smirked. "So she's been trained to kill," she amended.

Cragen watched Alex's jaw tense, and her fingers grip the edge of the table. He turned back toward Tracy calmly. "That's not what I said," he objected tersely.

"Ah, well, then I must have misunderstood you. What about beating up suspects? Has she been trained to do that?"

Cragen shot a helpless look at Alex. "No," he answered quietly.

Tracy nodded. She crossed back over to her briefcase and grabbed an open file resting next to it. She brought it over to Cragen and slid it in front of him. "People's evidence one…does this look familiar to you, Captain?"

Cragen swallowed hard as he looked over the report in front of him. He nodded quietly before pushing it back toward her. "Yes."

"And could you tell the jury what it is that you're looking at?"

"It's a DD5 written up after Detective Benson interrogated a suspect by the name of Michael Thatcher."

"Objection," Alex called out. She shot to her feet. "This report is from an unrelated case that has absolutely no bearing on these proceedings."

"It goes to motive, your Honor," Tracy argued. "The people have a right to know if Detective Benson has reacted violently toward other suspects in the past when trying to protect her family."

Petrovsky nodded. "I'll give you a little bit of latitude, Ms. Kibre, but don't go too far."

"Now the highlighted passage indicates that Detective Benson had to be forcibly restrained and pulled from the interrogation room in order to keep her from attacking a suspect. Is that true?"

"She was under an enormous amount of stress," Cragen managed, fighting to keep his voice even. "And she was trying to coerce a confession out of a rapist who had already tied up, raped, and held two innocent girls at knifepoint."

"An enormous amount of stress…" Tracy resumed pacing until she stood directly in front of Cragen at the stand. "Would that stress have anything to do with the fact that the defendant later admitted to the Internal Affairs Bureau that she helped her brother evade arrest?" she shot back coldly.

"Objection!" Alex shot the prosecution an icy glare. "Captain Cragen is not qualified to speculate about my client's state of mind during the time in question."

"Sustained." Petrovsky raised an eyebrow at the prosecution. "Watch your step, Ms. Kibre."

Tracy nodded. "Let me re-phrase that. Were you present when Olivia was escorted out of the precinct by Agent Dean Porter for questioning regarding the disappearance of her half-brother Simon Marsden?"

Cragen hesitated. "Yes," he sighed.

Tracy nodded approvingly. "Obviously Olivia only upholds the law when it doesn't interfere with her family."

"Objection!"

Tracy turned back around to face Alex and held up her hand. "That's all right. I'm done here—nothing further."

* * *

She had an abortion.

Elliot stared straight in front of him at the screen saver that had taken over his computer an hour earlier. And he didn't move. He didn't blink. Didn't breathe. Didn't do anything.

_Before you and Kathy had kids, did you ever wonder how they were going to turn out?_

The words kept cycling through his head as if taunting him—taunting him with the truth that was lacking within them. Taunting him with the realization that she'd never had the chance to figure it out.

She had an abortion.

_At least you and Kathy know what you're passing on. Half my genes are drunk and the other half are violent and cruel._

He had told her it hadn't been all about the genes, told her it was all about how you raise your kids. He swallowed hard. All Olivia had known about raising a kid as a seventeen year old child was what her mother had taught her. And she had been terrified that she would pass on Serena's legacy.

_Babies killing babies bothers me. _

Elliot wanted to take it all back. Abortion was a sin—a cardinal sin. Everything he'd ever known, ever been taught told him it was wrong. And she knew it. She knew the truth, and she'd tried to protect him from it. Tried to protect him from having to choose between his faith and her decision.

_So it's that simple, huh, altar boy?_

He had told Fin it was. But now he had no idea—now, suddenly it hadn't been that simple. She'd been a scared kid mourning the loss of her husband and faced with the fact that she was going to be a single mother to the child left behind. A single mother dealing with her own trauma—just like Serena Benson. A single mother who suddenly felt that her genes were the only thing left for a child growing inside of her.

_There's no rape or incest involved so yeah, it is that simple… there's a thing called adoption._

Elliot finally allowed his eyes to slide closed, allowed the arms wrapped around his chest to sink just a little bit further with the truth of what he'd done to her for ten and a half years.

For ten and a half years he'd told her over and over again that abortion was wrong. For ten and a half years, he'd torn apart a truth that was a part of her, a part of who she was. No wonder she'd been terrified to have her own child. No wonder she'd turned to adoption. No wonder she had stayed silent all these years.

She had been afraid of letting him down, afraid of finding out he could never forgive her. But more than anything, she had been afraid of this moment, afraid of what that knowledge might do to him.

And he was terrified of what he would say to her now that he knew.

The sound of Fin's voice behind him interrupted his reverie. "What are you doing here?" Fin came up behind him, the expression on his face dubious.

Elliot snapped his head around. "Working," he shot back, suddenly painfully aware of the blank screen in front of him. He jiggled his mouse until the screen sprang to life.

Fin hesitated. "Shouldn't you be at the courthouse with Olivia?" he asked softly.

Elliot swallowed the knot in his throat. "She doesn't need me there," he managed dully. And without another word, he abruptly pushed back his chair and fled the squad room before Fin could confront him with more questions. Questions he still wasn't sure he could answer.

He stopped when he reached the edge of the rooftop. The December air whipped past him, but he couldn't feel anything. He couldn't let himself feel anything. Because the truth was, he was terrified about how he felt about it. And he knew that as soon as she saw him, she would see right through that, and he couldn't do that to her. Not here, not now. Not when the one thing she needed from him was the support he'd never been able to give her. Not when she needed him to not judge her. Not when she needed him to survive.

* * *

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God?"

Olivia stared straight in front of her, her eyes scanning the courtroom for the one person she needed now more than ever before. The one person who finally deserved to know the truth.

"I do," she responded softly.

Tracy stepped closer as the bailiff returned to his post. "Can you state your full name for the record?"

Olivia nodded, her stomach suddenly in knots. She had been on the stand many times before. And every time, she always felt that she somehow had a personal stake in each case. Too many hours invested in complete strangers whose faces were forever etched in her memory. Too many evenings spent tossing and turning as each victim's story haunted her until her body finally gave in to restless slumber. Too many fights, too many tears, and too many nights wondering if things would ever get any easier.

They hadn't.

Every case hurt a little bit more. Every victim's story became a little piece that she carried around with her. But she'd survived it. She'd survived it because for the first time in her life, she hadn't been alone.

Until now.

Now, she suddenly felt lost without his presence. Now, the little bit of strength in her that hadn't been shredded by every case was suddenly teetering on the brink of an unknown she was terrified to cross. Because she was afraid of what might happen if she did. And this time, it wasn't just a case at stake. This time, she had everything to lose.

She wasn't sure how she managed to keep her voice strong when the words finally escaped, but somehow she did. "Olivia Benson."

"Do you know why you're here today?"

Olivia looked up and nodded. "Yes."

Tracy waited for her response before pouncing again. "Did you kill Pasha Bolotovsky?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, I did not."

"Really?" Tracy glanced back behind her. "Because you told Captain Cragen that you did. Were you lying?"

Olivia's heart was pounding. Her eyes scanned the courtroom again, and she felt the knot tighten in her throat at the realization that Cragen and Alex were the only faces she recognized. She swallowed hard. "I didn't know what happened at the time."

"Are you sure?" Tracy mused. She moved a little closer. "Do you happen to know a woman by the name of Hannah Leawood?"

Olivia nodded silently. She cleared her throat. "Yes."

"And how exactly do you know Hannah?"

Olivia swallowed hard. "She's my niece. Her mother, Elizabeth Leawood, was my husband's sister. Elizabeth took me in after my husband was killed in a car accident. She was seven months pregnant at the time. I helped her take care of Hannah's older sister, Regina."

"So you helped raise the girls?"

Olivia's gaze softened. "Yes."

"Then it must have been difficult to find out that one of the girls you helped raise had allegedly been raped by Pasha Bolotovsky?"

Olivia nodded. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. "Yes."

"How old were you at the time you moved in with the Leawoods?"

Olivia tensed up immediately. "Sixteen."

"Sixteen," Tracy mused. "New York state law says that a minor can't enter into a marriage without parental consent. Did your mother provide that?"

"Objection," Alex called out. "Relevance?"

"Getting to it, your Honor."

Petrovsky nodded. "I'll allow it." She turned to Olivia. "Answer the question."

"Stephen and I were married in a courthouse in New Jersey. I was four months pregnant at the time," Olivia began slowly. She hesitated. "New Jersey law grants an exception to the age requirement in cases where a teenager is pregnant."

Tracy smirked back at her. "So you manipulated the law to your own advantage?"

Olivia drew in a deep breath. "I married the man I loved so that we could start a family together," she retorted, struggling to keep her voice calm.

"So that you could start a family together," Tracy repeated. "But you didn't actually have your baby. In fact the hospital records indicate you had an abortion." Her lips curved upward in a smirk. "Is that correct?"

Olivia's voice was quiet when she spoke. "Yes."

"So you were protecting your niece when you confessed to murder, you were protecting your brother when you sent him money to help him evade arrest, and you pretended to be a devoted mother for as long as it was in your best interest. Funny how your family only comes into play when it's convenient."

"Objection!" Alex glared back at Tracy. "Is there a question there?"

Tracy's lips curved forward in a sly smile. "Withdrawn."

* * *

The door opened behind him, but Elliot didn't bother to turn around. He didn't want to face Fin now. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to tell Fin the truth—didn't want to tell him he wasn't sure how to tell her that he knew everything.

"Dad?" The voice that called out was tentative.

Elliot whipped his head around in surprise. He swallowed hard. "Maureen? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." Maureen crossed the rooftop and stopped beside him. She handed him a jacket before leaning against the railing, shooting a sideways glance up at her father. "I've been trying to call, but you didn't pick up your phone."

Elliot nodded as he pulled the jacket over his shoulders. "I know—I'm sorry. Things have been…there's been a lot going on here." He closed his eyes, wanting to give her answers, but at the same time knowing he never could.

Maureen nodded silently. She turned to face her father. "Next week is Christmas," she added quietly.

Elliot's head snapped up. His mind was spinning. It couldn't be Christmas already. Thanksgiving had been just the other day, hadn't it? Suddenly, he had absolutely no concept of the time that had passed. He shot Maureen a helpless look. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize…"

Maureen pulled her jacket a little bit tighter across her shoulders and turned her back to the harsh wind. "Don't worry. Mom's already taken care of it. She picked up gifts for everyone and put your name on them." She sighed. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Elliot avoided her eyes. "Talk about what?"

"Whatever's going on with you." Maureen hesitated and drew in a deep breath. "Does it have something to do with Olivia?"

Elliot's jaw tightened noticeably. "Maureen, look. I can't do this right now."

"Dad, it's okay." She waited for him to look back at her. Her lips twisted upward in a small smile. "Do you remember the time you asked me why it's so hard for kids to talk to adults? Well, sometimes the reverse works too." She sighed. "I'm a big girl—I can handle it," she added wryly.

Elliot exhaled sharply. "It's not that I don't think you can handle it, Maureen, but it's not my place to tell you anything about…"

"Dad," Maureen interrupted him gently. "Olivia called me. She said you might need somebody to talk to. She said it was okay—that you could tell me anything you wanted to."

Elliot nodded silently. He allowed silence to envelope them for a long moment before he finally spoke. "You know how I've always tried to protect you from all the things that I see every day?"

Maureen's voice was quiet. "Yeah."

"Well, have you ever felt like you couldn't tell me things because you were afraid that I would be disappointed that I couldn't protect you from it?"

Maureen hesitated. "Dad, you have great intentions, but sometimes you can be hard to talk to," she began gently. "I know you don't want to see any of us hurt, but sometimes that's a normal part of life. You can't control everything. And when you try, you just end up angry, and then it's that much harder to actually talk to you."

Elliot swallowed hard. "So what can I do?"

"Don't judge us, Dad. And don't judge Olivia. She's not perfect, and she's having a hard enough time accepting the fact that she might actually need help. Make sure she knows you're there for her when she realizes that. She might not admit it, but she needs you." Maureen hesitated. "And Dad…one more thing."

Elliot released the breath he had been holding and finally met Maureen's eyes. "What?"

"I know you don't like to talk about things, but you need to talk to Olivia about whatever it is. I've never seen you like this…even when you and Mom were having problems. We need you to come back, but not until you work through this. You're no good to us until you do."

* * *

"Are you sure that Hannah said the home was run by Ms. Margaret?"

Fin sighed and glanced up from the file in his hand. "Positive," he confirmed. "It has to be here somewhere." He tossed another file across the desk at his partner. "Try checking the LUDS against the business registry again. This home has to exist somewhere."

"Maybe it's in Jersey?" Munch suggested.

Fin shook his head. "I've been over those records half a dozen times already. There's nothing there under Margaret Stilton."

"Ah, so clearly my half a dozen times perusing the New York records must be the problem," Munch shot back sarcastically. "Maybe you're the one who missed something."

Fin glanced up at his partner. "Well, excuse me, Mr. Perfect."

"I never said I was perfect," Munch grumbled.

"Sure you did," Fin retorted. "For the past nine years. You know you're not the only one missing Olivia's trial right now."

"I never said I was," Munch protested testily.

Fin glared back at him before grabbing the file out of Munch's hand and tossing the one lying open on his desk over to his partner. "Fine," he added. "You check the New Jersey records this time, and I'll double-check the New York ones. We'll see who's right."

Munch's protest died on his lips. He flipped open the cover on the file now in his hands. "Fine."

* * *

The silence that followed was unbearable—predatory. The cool smirk on Tracy's face unnerved her. Olivia shifted restlessly from her position on the witness stand.

"So if you couldn't remember what happened, why confess to a crime that you don't think you committed?"

Olivia swallowed hard. Her eyes scanned the courtroom and settled on Cragen. He was waiting expectantly for her response, waiting for a truth she was suddenly terrified to give him. "I didn't know what happened at the time, and I knew the only other suspect in the case was my niece," Olivia began tentatively. "I…I wanted to protect her from going through what happened to me."

"What happened to you…" Tracy mused. She stopped pacing and glanced back up, casually. "What did happen to you?"

Olivia froze. She couldn't do this. Not like this. Her eyes widened in panic, and she watched the slight shift in the expression on Alex's face as she realized what direction Tracy was headed in. "Objection. Relevance?"

Tracy turned back to Alex. "Please tell me you're kidding?" she shot back quickly. "If you are stipulating that the alleged assault that took place against your client was in any way connected to her confession, then the people have a right to examine what actually took place and how it affected your client."

"Over-ruled," Petrovsky announced, her eyes settling on Alex. "You left the door wide open on this one, Councilor," she chastised her with a frown.

Olivia didn't hear the ruling. Her eyes were transfixed on the figure that had just stepped through the door. Elliot slid into an empty seat at the back of the courtroom, and she drew in a shaky breath. Her eyes were trained on his, and she hesitated. She couldn't do this. She wasn't ready to admit the truth.

His eyes held hers, silently encouraging her. And she waited—waited for him to tell her it was okay. Okay to admit she hadn't been as strong as she needed to be. Okay to admit she wasn't completely powerless. Okay to admit that what happened right here and now didn't have to change everything between them.

She needed him to know. But she also needed him to tell her that it wouldn't change the way he looked at her, wouldn't change the way he treated her on the job.

All of a sudden Olivia realized everyone was staring at her, waiting for her answer. She raised her chin ever so slightly. It was time to finally give him everything he deserved to know. "Nine months ago, I was sexually assaulted, beaten, and orally sodomized while working undercover in a prison," Olivia admitted quietly. She looked up, looked past Tracy, and directly into his eyes. "I've been going through rape trauma syndrome and have been experiencing flashbacks of my attack. I had one on that day."

"Well, that's awfully convenient," Tracy retorted.

Olivia never heard her. Elliot's words filtered in and out of her consciousness as she held his gaze and watched them take hold over him.

_So what…you'll sleep with any guy who'll buy you a couple of drinks, but you draw the line at a little oral?_

Sexually assaulted. Beaten. Orally sodomized. She watched her words sink in, watched his eyes flutter closed as memories of his own words fit together with hers. And she wanted to protect him. She wanted to take away the heartache and the pain that hit him in that moment and reassure him that his words were only as damaging as the silence that had invoked them.

"Objection," Alex interrupted tersely.

When his eyes opened again, Olivia did the only thing she could do. She spoke to him in the only way that she knew how—in a language that spanned the length of the courtroom and told him everything she'd never been able to give him. Told him that she was finally ready to do this—finally ready to break a silence that had decimated their lives for far too long. She needed him to know the truth so that both of them could begin to heal.

All of it.

Olivia snapped back to attention at the sound of Petrovsky's voice. "Make sure there's a question attached to it, Ms. Kibre," Petrovsky added. Olivia's eyes flew back over to Alex as she attempted to decipher what she had missed.

Before she could read the expression on Alex's face, she heard Tracy's voice again. "Your boss described you as being very dedicated to the job and good with the victims. How far does that loyalty extend?"

"I'm not sure I understand your question," Olivia returned, her voice suddenly filled with a new strength. "I do whatever it takes to do my job."

"Does that include setting yourself up to be sexually assaulted so you can relate better to your victims?"

Olivia sat back, stunned. She closed her eyes for a long moment and took a deep breath before she attempted to answer. When she did, she sought out Elliot's eyes, holding his gaze as she pulled herself together.

She'd told victims for years that she'd never met anyone who regretted taking the stand.

And suddenly she realized why. All of a sudden, Olivia realized that the words Tracy was using to tear her apart on the stand only held strength as long as she let them. And she was tired of letting them take hold over her, tired of letting the weight of them pull her down.

Olivia's voice was clear and strong when she spoke. "No, and if you're insinuating that the only way a detective in the special victims unit can be sexually assaulted is if she lets herself, then you're wrong."

Her voice was trembling ever so slightly, but she plowed ahead anyway. "Not a day has gone by in the last nine months where I haven't wondered why I couldn't fight him off, why I couldn't defend myself. I was ashamed at how powerless I was and terrified of what that meant about me and my ability to do my job." With every word that escaped, Olivia felt liberated, felt the weight lift off her shoulders. She held her head up high, an energy fueled by a newfound sense of confidence propelling her forward. "That's why I never reported the assault. That's why I never told my captain. That's why I…"

Olivia never let go of his gaze. "That's why I never told my partner," she confessed softly. She drew in a shaky breath, her voice clear and strong. "And I'm not going to pretend I'm anywhere near being over that. I've seen the kind of damage that this can cause. I've lived with that every day of my life, and if you think that I would knowingly put myself in that situation, you're wrong."

* * *


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

* * *

"I found it."

Fin glanced up from the file in front of him and rubbed his eyes. "Found what?" he growled impatiently. "I've already been through those files. There's nothing there."

"Nothing under a home for unwed mothers, but the dance studio is another story," Munch declared triumphantly. "The school that Pasha teaches at in Brooklyn is owned by a woman by the name of Meg Bolotovsky."

"Who the hell is Meg? We checked—Pasha was born and raised in Russia. He was an only child, and there's no record of a marriage license filed here or in Europe…"

A photo popped up on Munch's computer screen. "That's because it was filed in Canada." He spun his monitor around so that Fin could read it. "A wedding license for Pasha Bolotovsky and Margaret Stilton was filed in Quebec back in 2003."

"Margaret Stilton, a.k.a. Meg Bolotovsky," Fin added.

Munch nodded. "Funny that Ms. Margaret neglected to mention the fact that she was a grieving widow last time we spoke to her."

"No wonder Michaela withdrew her rape accusation. Her rapist's wife showed up at the hospital in the middle of her rape kit. That's enough to shut anybody up."

"That's not all," Munch added. "Ms. Margaret used to take some of the girls from her studio with her around the tri-state area for lecture demonstrations at local middle schools. Her tour schedule is listed on her website." He waited as Fin entered a couple of quick keystrokes and the screen before them sprang to life. Munch studied the screen carefully. "Now cross-reference that with the three missing girls," he instructed.

Three points began blinking on the map. "All three girls disappeared within two weeks of her visit," Fin confirmed.

"Okay," Munch mused. "So Michaela Spring went to school in Brooklyn, Kayla in Jersey, and Sasha in Connecticut. Try cross-listing the tour locations and dates with missing teens entered into CODIS." Several more points sprang to life. "Now, let's narrow that down to unsolved cases involving teens between the ages of 10 and 16 missing from the tri-state area."

Fin whistled as he examined the points left on the map. "Damn, that's twelve more girls that we know about."

Munch nodded grimly. "I think our grieving widow has had enough time to grieve. What do you say we pay her a visit?"

"Yeah, and quick…before Olivia's trial is up," Fin affirmed. "Because I think we just found more than a dozen reasons to keep Pasha silent."

Munch reached for the sedan keys and dangled them in front of his partner. "And since I managed to uncover the whole thing, I get to drive, and you get to pay for dinner."

Fin reached for his coat and followed Munch out the door. "Figures," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

He couldn't breathe.

Elliot's eyes locked with hers, and he didn't dare move. Didn't dare draw in a breath. He was too afraid of letting her down. He was too afraid of seeing her lose that little bit of strength that seemed to be propelling her forward. Because he knew if she fell apart, he would be right behind her. And he wasn't ready to deal with that.

Olivia's lips curved upward as Tracy Kibre took her seat and Alex drew herself up to her feet. For a brief moment, he watched as her eyes traveled over to Alex, and she nodded her assent. He drew in a shaky breath. Suddenly he wasn't sure he was prepared to hear the truth, and he said a silent prayer that he would be able to handle what it was she was finally ready to offer him. As her eyes settled back on his, he swallowed hard. Her gaze was full of apologies—apologies for the words never spoken and for those about to be spoken.

"Olivia," Alex began gently. "You testified that you did not shoot Pasha Bolotovsky, but the lab found evidence that you had recently fired a weapon. Can you explain that to the jury?"

Olivia nodded. Her voice was hesitant when she spoke. "Yes." He watched her hands twist nervously together until finally they stilled. When she spoke again, her voice was suddenly stronger. "Ever since I was sexually assaulted, I've been going to the shooting range every afternoon when I'm not out on a case. I just…I needed to feel safe on the job, and I needed to know that if and when something comes up, I could handle it. My partner trusts me to have his back, and I need to make sure I can be there for him."

His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as they took in her words. When they opened again, he sought her out. He needed her to know. He needed her to understand that it didn't matter what had happened. She was his partner, and he trusted her more than he trusted himself.

Nothing could ever change that.

Because when it came right down to it, he knew that she'd always be there. No matter how far away he'd pushed her in the past, her strength and support was unwavering. And he knew that even when he failed, she was the one thing to bring him back. She was the single, constant support in his life that he trusted without question.

"And were you at the shooting range the afternoon that Pasha was shot?" Alex prompted.

The realization that he hadn't even noticed she'd been gone hit him first. Followed by the fact that he didn't know the answer to Alex's question. His fingertips gripped the edge of his seat as he realized just how much he'd pushed her away. Just how alone she must have felt. A good partner would have noticed. A good partner would have picked up on that.

But he hadn't. He had been so wrapped up in the dissolution of his marriage, he hadn't even noticed her absence. He hadn't thought to question her when she returned because he was terrified that if he did, she might find out that he had failed once again at his marriage. He had failed at being a good father, a good husband. He hadn't wanted to let her down.

Olivia nodded "Yes."

"What weapon were you using at the time?" Alex added casually.

The answer flew through his mind as it escaped her lips. And he wished so much that he could give it for her—allow her that one moment of reprieve. But it was Olivia. And just like she had for the past ten and a half years, she bore the brunt alone with a strength that he'd never understood.

"My on-duty service revolver. It's a 0.38 caliber Glock," Olivia responded cautiously.

Alex nodded. "Now ballistics show that this was not the weapon used in Pasha Bolotovsky's murder. The gun used was actually a nine millimeter Glock which CSU later matched to your off-duty weapon. Where was that at the time?"

"I don't know," Olivia admitted. "I thought it was at my apartment, but obviously I was wrong."

"Did you at any point leave the weapon out in the open where somebody could have taken it?"

Olivia hesitated. "I normally keep it in a lockbox, but I have been having nightmares ever since my attack, and the only way I can sleep is if I have it out on my nightstand. I've been…doing that for years anytime I'm on a rough case. I just…I feel safer that way. I know I shouldn't, but..." Olivia swallowed hard. "To be honest, I thought it was more of a danger to myself than anyone else."

"What do you mean?" Alex asked softly.

"I used to know a cop who left his service revolver out. After pulling a double one night he woke up during an asthma attack and accidently reached for his weapon instead of his inhaler."

"It seems like that's pretty vivid in your mind. What made you think about that?"

"Objection," Tracy called out, her voice sharp. She sighed. "Relevance?"

Of course it was relevant. Elliot felt panic take hold over him at the thought that the rest might be left unspoken. He held his breath as he waited for Petrovsky's ruling. He needed to know the answer. He needed to finally understand everything she'd been through.

Alex turned toward Petrovsky. "The people's sole evidence against my client involves the use of her gun as the murder weapon. Now we have a right to explore not only where that weapon was, but my client's mental and emotional state as it relates to the weapon in question."

Petrovsky raised an eyebrow. "I'll allow the question."

Olivia hesitated. "A lot of sexual assault victims become reckless after their assault. I thought knowing that would have made it easier, but the truth is it didn't make a difference. As much as I want to control everything I'm going through, I just can't. I can't stop myself from feeling that."

Alex nodded. "That must be difficult for you to accept. Is that why you didn't want your niece to go through the same thing?"

_I wouldn't put my girls through it. You don't know… _

Elliot closed his eyes as if somehow doing so might take away the words he had once given her. For years, he had told her she had no idea what it was like to protect your children, to protect your family. And all along, she'd understood and never said a word.

"Yes." Olivia drew in a shaky breath and his heart skipped a beat as he saw her brace herself for what was to come. "I wasn't there to protect my niece before that, and I…I didn't want to make the same mistake twice. I couldn't live with myself if I let the same thing happen to her."

_You don't have children. You don't understand._

He wanted to take all of it back. He wanted to tell her he was sorry. He had needed to feel as if she didn't understand because somehow that knowledge made him feel more justified in his actions. It made every mistake he'd made easier to bear. It made every emotional, rash decision he'd ever made make sense. Because without that, he realized that he was flawed. And that was something that he couldn't face. It was something that made him weak. And that was the one thing he couldn't handle.

"It sounds like you care for both of your nieces very much," Alex began gently. "Yet you haven't seen them in eight years. What happened?"

Olivia met Alex's unwavering gaze. "I took Regina to get her driver's license when she turned sixteen. I let her drive on the way home, and we got in a minor car accident." Olivia closed her eyes, and he hesitated as he waited for her to respond. "I tried to tell myself that it just brought back memories of the accident that killed my husband, but the truth is I was angry, and I didn't know how to deal with that."

His heart skipped a beat. Olivia wasn't supposed to be angry. That was his job. She had always been the one to teach him how to handle his rage. She was the one who always accepted the brunt of his anger so that he could begin to move forward.

"What were you angry about?" Alex asked gently.

"I was angry that I'd survived…_again_, and I was terrified that Hannah might see that and somehow think that she was at fault. It was…it was my fault. I had already lost my family. It was easier to push my nieces away then to allow something else to happen to them too."

"When you say you lost your family—you mean your husband?"

Olivia nodded. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. "My husband and my daughter."

"Your daughter," Alex repeated. She turned around to face the jury. "But didn't you just tell the jury that you'd had an abortion."

Elliot's chest suddenly constricted as he tried desperately to monitor the expression on his face. He forced back any traces of disappointment, any traces of anger. And instead, he offered her every bit of the acceptance and encouragement that she desperately needed. He offered her understanding. Support. And forgiveness.

Olivia straightened her shoulders and met his gaze. "Medically speaking…yes," she confirmed softly.

He hadn't even realized he had been holding his breath. His head whipped over to her, and he fought to control the confusion that he knew she could see right through. He struggled to read her, struggled to understand what it was that she was trying to say. Everything he thought he knew suddenly dissipated and all that was left was the two of them.

_Medically speaking._

He swallowed the knot in his throat. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He had finally come to terms with the truth. He had finally made peace with her secrets. But now, he had no idea what to expect. He had no idea what any of it meant. And the unknown scared the hell out of him. Because he didn't know where that left them.

"Medically speaking." Alex paused for a moment to let the words sink in. "What do you mean by that?"

"I was rushed to the hospital immediately after the accident. My husband had been killed instantly, and I was in critical condition. I was unconscious, and the doctors knew that allowing the pregnancy to go on much longer would have killed me. I was too unstable for further surgery so a c-section was out of the question, and they said I wouldn't have survived if they tried to induce labor. They called my mother in to the hospital when they didn't think we were going to make it. They asked her..."

Olivia drew in a shaky breath. "They asked her if they should save me or the baby, and she told them to do whatever it took to save me." Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment. When they opened again, his heart ached as he realized she couldn't meet his eyes. The voice that escaped was barely more than a whisper. "The only option the doctors had to save either one of us was to perform a late-term abortion. I didn't even know what happened until I woke up."

Alex's voice was soft when she spoke. "Have you ever told anybody about this before?"

Olivia shook her head adamantly. "No."

Alex nodded. "Why not?"

"Because…" Elliot held his breath as he waited for her response. And when she spoke again, he barely recognized the raspy, choked up voice that escaped. "Because my entire childhood, I always thought it was my fault that my mother couldn't get over her rape. I thought that if she didn't have a constant reminder of what happened, then maybe her life would have been somehow different, better. I thought that maybe she wouldn't have needed to turn to alcohol to dull the pain. But that day…"

Elliot needed to see her. He needed to let her see within him. And he waited until finally she had the strength to look back over at him.

"That day, the doctors finally gave my mother an out. They gave her the option to let me go. But she didn't…" Olivia bit down on her bottom lip. "She chose me for the second time and…and there was nothing I could do to stop her."

* * *


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

* * *

"Olivia, you did great."

Alex turned back around to face Olivia and rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. "I know that wasn't easy for you, but I think it really helped your case. At least the jury knows the truth now."

Olivia nodded silently and swallowed the knot in her throat. "It doesn't matter," she responded dully. "It's over now." Her eyes followed Elliot and watched as he started toward her. "Look, Alex. I need to go take care of something. Tell Elliot…" She hesitated. "Tell him I'll talk to him soon."

Alex stalled midway through loading Olivia's case file in her briefcase. "Olivia," she began gently as she turned back toward her. "You need to talk to him about this. You can't just pretend that none of this happened."

Olivia bit down on her bottom lip. Her eyes darted back and forth as she glanced back over her shoulder. Cragen had pulled Elliot aside for a moment. Her eyes swept across the court room as she mentally calculated the length of time it would take her to get to the exit. She nodded. "I know that," she agreed quietly. "But Alex, I can't…I can't do that right now. I have something I need to take care of first. And it's something that I have to do alone." She took a deep breath. "Just tell him…tell him I'll call him later."

"Olivia…" Alex reached out to stop her, but in a moment, she was gone. She sighed, turning her gaze over to Elliot. He was frozen in place as he watched her walk out the door. Alex swept the rest of the paperwork in her hands into her briefcase and grudgingly headed toward where Cragen and Elliot still stood.

"Where did Olivia go?" Elliot's voice was too calm, too controlled.

Alex approached him apprehensively. "She had to go take care of something," she relayed quietly. "She said she'd call you later." Even to her own ears, Alex heard the empty promise held in her words.

Apparently so did Cragen. He laid a hand on Elliot's shoulder. "Come on, Elliot. Let's get back to the House." His eyes returned back to Alex. "Munch and Fin went to go find Margaret. Let's see if there's anything we can do to help."

* * *

  
The light filtered in through the grates in the window. Fin drummed his fingertips lightly on the table in front of him and watched in satisfaction as Margaret shifted nervously in her seat. "What's this all about?"

"Why don't you tell us?" Fin suggested calmly.

Margaret hesitated. "I don't understand. What do you want me to tell you?"

Munch peered over the file in his hand. "Well, for starters, how about we talk about your weekly trips to the shooting range," he suggested.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Margaret murmured, her face turning pale.

Munch moved a little bit closer so he was hovering just over her shoulder. "Sure you do. Bobby Terrance owns the place and seems to remember you quite well. He says you're a regular, and you always stop by to see him after you're done…every Thursday afternoon around three o'clock."

"Except you missed one week," Fin added.

Munch nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you know the day your husband showed up with a bullet in the back of his head."

"Why would I kill my own husband?" Margaret demanded. She laced her fingers together and fought to control the trembling in her lower lip. "I loved him."

"Did you still love him after you found out he was raping teenagers and trying to get them pregnant?" Fin retorted.

"My husband is dead," Margaret returned heatedly. "I am not about to sit here and listen to you slander his name."

"He's dead because you killed him," Munch reminded her. His voice hardened. "It was because of Michaela, wasn't it? She was going to tell everybody all about what Pasha was doing. Then they'd find out that you were his partner. You couldn't spend the rest of your life in jail so you made sure to get rid of both of them."

Margaret shook her head. "No, I don't know what you're talking about." She pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. As she started toward the door, Fin stopped her dead in her tracks.

"So tell us the truth, and we'll try to help you." He waited for her to turn around again before he allowed his voice to soften slightly. "If you walk out that door, there isn't anything we can do to help you," he added. "All you have to do is tell us the truth."

Margaret hesitated, the expression on her face unsure. "I am telling the truth," she answered softly. She swallowed hard. "And you can't keep me here so unless I'm under arrest, I'm afraid I must be getting back now."

* * *

  
"Olivia, what are you doing here?"

Olivia shifted her weight from one foot over to the other. She hesitated before she finally spoke. "We need to talk," she responded quietly. "Can I come in?"

Regina nodded silently and pushed the door open further to allow Olivia to come into the apartment. She followed her into the living room and took a seat on the loveseat across from her. "Olivia, I…I don't know what to say. I'm sorry." She drew in her trembling lip. "I'm so sorry."

"I know you are." Olivia met her niece's eyes. "I know that you didn't mean for any of this to happen, Regina, but I need for you to tell me the truth now so that I can help you."

"Will I get in trouble?" Regina asked softly.

"Not if you tell me the truth," Olivia assured her. "Regina, I'm done testifying now so there's nothing I can say anymore that can hurt you, but I need to know if you took the gun from my apartment."

Regina hesitated. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. "Yes."

Olivia drew in a long breath and studied her carefully. "And did you take it with you when you went to Pasha's apartment?"

Regina nodded silently. Her shoulders crumbled forward. "Olivia, I'm so sorry. I didn't know that any of this was going to happen. I swear if I had known, I would have never…" She drew in a shaky breath. "I was afraid that he might hurt me. I just wanted something to protect me."

Olivia moved over to her side and gently encouraged her to look up. "It's okay, Regina," she assured her softly. "We're going to get you through this…I promise." When Regina's shoulders stopped trembling, Olivia studied her carefully. "Regina, how did you get the gun out of my apartment?"

Regina drew her head up slowly. "When you went into the bedroom, Pasha's file was sitting out on your desk. The gun was on top of it. I just…I swept both of them into the tote bag I was carrying. I was going to bring it back, but afterwards…I was so scared. I didn't know what to do."

"But Regina," Olivia protested quietly. "The gun wasn't in the living room—it was in the bedroom." As soon as the words left her lips, it hit her.

Elliot.

The last time she had her off-duty weapon had been the night Elliot found her alone at Maloney's. The night he had found out the truth about Sealview. The night she had been too afraid of what she might do if she left it at her side. The night she had gone in to see Margo and admitted she needed help—alone, without the security of a weapon at her side.

"I never went into your bedroom—it was in the living room when I saw it," Regina objected.

Olivia closed her eyes and tried to remember. She had returned to work when Munch came to tell her about Hannah, but she had grabbed her on-duty Glock. She'd never touched her back-up. She had left it at home on her desk where it had been both close enough and far enough away to keep her safe. She opened her eyes. "You're right," she admitted. She bit down on her bottom lip. "I'm sorry."

Regina's voice was trembling when she spoke again. "What happens now? I'm supposed to testify tomorrow, and…I'm scared."

Olivia hesitated. "Come here," she responded softly. She wrapped her arms around her niece and drew her in close. "It's okay to be scared, but all you have to do is…tell the truth." Olivia swallowed hard. "And I promise you that I will take care of the rest."

* * *

  
"I know that she's guilty. So how do we get her to talk?"

Cragen nodded in response to Fin and turned to Alex. "Alex, please tell me that you've got some legal maneuver we can use to compel her to talk."

"You know she's guilty how?" Alex turned her attention back to Munch and sighed. "All you have is a hunch—not only do you not have a single piece of evidence that points toward her killing Pasha, but neither you nor I are even on this case, remember? Now did she give you anything when you questioned her?"

"No," Munch hedged. "But Alex, she has no alibi for the time of Pasha's murder, and she has the skills and motive to pull it off. I know that she's guilty."

"That's great, John. But I can't ask a judge for a warrant on a case that we're not even supposed to be investigating simply because you have a hunch. All the evidence that you have is circumstantial at best."

"Okay, so if we can't touch her for Pasha. What about Michaela Spring's death?" Fin ventured. "Olivia's not connected to that case so there's no reason they should give us a hard time about that one."

"Except for the fact that the M.E. ruled Michaela's death a suicide," Alex reminded him. "There's no crime involved."

"So we go back to the evidence," Cragen interrupted softly.

Munch caught his eyes and nodded. "O'Halloran. There were no prints in the system that matched those found on the lamp."

Cragen nodded. "That's because we didn't have any to compare them to before."

"Yeah, what are the chances that the prints Margaret left on her coffee mug will match those on the lamp?" Fin suggested.

There's only one way to find out," Cragen added.

Munch and Fin nodded and started toward the door.

As they left, Cragen's eyes settled on his one remaining detective. "Elliot, everything okay?"

Elliot crossed his arms over his chest. "What if we can get a confession out of Margaret," he finally managed. His eyes flew over to Alex. "Can we use that to help Liv's case?"

"Sure, if you can get a confession out of her," Alex sighed reluctantly. "But it doesn't sound like that's going to happen."

Elliot stared straight ahead. "Captain, I've screwed up everything on this investigation so far." He finally turned his head toward his Captain. "Just give me a chance to make things right."

"Elliot, what makes you think that you're going to get any further than Munch and Fin," Cragen asked gently.

Elliot swallowed hard. "Because I know how to get through to her," he responded quietly. "And because this time I'm not going in there alone."

* * *

"No…"

Olivia's eyes flew open. Her chest tightened as she fought to draw in a trembling breath, and absolute panic settled over her as she realized that she was trapped and couldn't move.

Slowly the images around her came into focus, and Olivia realized that she had managed to entangle herself in a blanket. She blinked away the tears that threatened to spill forward as she extracted herself from the tangled mess and pushed back away from the bed. Her eyes darted back and forth as she surveyed the empty room and a second wave of panic hit her as they settled on the door to the crib.

It was closed.

Her heart was suddenly pounding, her breathing instantly shallow against the growing knot in her throat. And she stared at the door. She had left it open. It was now closed.

Closed. Locked. Trapped.

Tentatively, she forced herself to her feet. She forced herself to walk toward it. She could hear his footsteps behind her—each step louder than the one before it. Following her. Mocking her. Imprisoning her.

Her hands were trembling as they reached for the knob. The door swung open silently. Olivia swallowed the knot in her throat and hesitated, suddenly unsure of where to go, what to do. She needed to work. She needed to escape. She needed to…

A soft voice cut through the silence she left behind. "Olivia."

Her body was instantly rigid for a single moment until recognition settled deep within her. She fought to steady her voice. "Elliot, what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"I could say the same thing about you." His voice was guarded, as if unsure whether or not he should be here. He hesitated. "I told the doctor I'd look out for you."

As her eyes adjusted to the shadows, she made out his outline. He was seated on the staircase, his torso rotating toward her. She swallowed hard. "I couldn't sleep at home so I thought I'd come here."

She took a cautious step forward, suspiciously eyeing the second cup of coffee he extended toward her as she took a seat next to him.

"You've been tossing and turning for awhile," he offered as if by way of explanation. "I thought closing the door might help you get a little more sleep, but I figured it was just a matter of time before you woke up."

She nodded succinctly, drawing the cup now in her hand to her lips to buy her a moment of silence. She knew what he meant, knew exactly what he left unsaid. And the knot in her throat was suddenly back. She allowed her eyes to fall down to the cup in her hand and silently watched him out of the corner of her eye. His jaw was tense, his gaze trained straight in front of him, and his fingers tightened around the cup with everything he wanted to say and didn't dare say all at once. The corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly. "I'm fine," she offered softly.

He simply nodded. "Sure you are," he grumbled.

She tossed her head back, sneaking a sidewise glance over at him before her bangs fell back in place, obscuring her view. "I can't sleep at home," she added quietly. "I don't like the locks on the door."

"Is that why you added the chain lock?"

She wanted to be surprised that he'd noticed, but somehow she wasn't. She took another sip. "Maybe." She swallowed hard. "I'm not sure if I'm trying to keep someone out or leave it open to escape. The chain lock was a compromise between the two."

She watched his eyes flutter closed as he realized what shutting the door had done to her. They re-opened again. "Apparently that didn't work either."

Olivia nodded. "I feel safer here. It's always open, but I know that no one can get in and…" She trailed off, suddenly unable to finish the rest of her sentence.

Elliot finally turned to face her. "Liv, you can't…you can't sleep in the crib forever."

"I know," she responded quietly. Her eyes ducked away from his. "But it's better than the alternative."

Recognition hit him as soon as her words escaped. "You've been using alcohol to try to help you sleep." He waited for her to look back at him, waited for her silent confirmation.

"El, you know those nights when you come home from a really tough case and you just lie there too exhausted to sleep because you can't get those images out of your head," Olivia finally offered.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, it's kind of like that except…except it never really goes away."

He turned back toward her, the corner of his lips turning up in a wry smile. "You know those are the nights when I usually come over to your place. I figure if neither of us are going to be sleeping, we might as well do something."

Olivia laughed softly. "Yeah, well, this is a little different," she added. "Because it's just one of us."

"That's where you're wrong, Liv," Eliot protested softly, his tone suddenly serious.

She turned toward him in confusion. "What are you talking about, El?"

"Do I look like I'm sleeping to you?"

Olivia hesitated. She took in the serious expression on his face before turning back away from him. "Okay, noted," she responded quietly.

Elliot nodded to the empty cup in his hand. "How about I take you out for a cup of coffee?"

The corners of her lips turned up in a sly smile. "What if I wanted breakfast instead?"

"Two eggs over easy, hashbrowns, and toast?" Elliot guessed. He waited for the surprised look on her face before he continued. "A good cop knows what his partner likes to eat for breakfast," he added.

She smirked. "Yeah, well a good partner also knows _where_ her partner likes to eat breakfast," she shot back.

He rolled his eyes and nudged her forward, a smug smile on his face. "Good, then I don't have to tell you where we're going."

"No," she responded smugly. She arched her eyebrow at him innocently. "But you do have to tell me what it is you want from me."

"I never said I wanted anything," he countered.

She rolled her eyes. "My point exactly."

* * *


	28. Chapter 28

**_Author's Chapter Notes:_**

_Sorry, everyone about the delay in getting this up. I finally have my internet back, but getting settled has taken a little longer than expected. This has been a difficult chapter to write and I want to preface this by warning you that it is very dark. But hopefully this will help bring to light an important issue that is rarely talked about, but very much real. Thanks for all the reviews so far and for all the encouragement as we go along. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know._

* * *

Chapter 28

* * *

"Who are you?"

Elliot stepped closer to the partially opened door in front of him and held up his shield. "Detective Stabler, Special Victims Unit."

"I already told those other cops—I can't help you," Margaret answered hesitantly.

Elliot nodded. "I know." He took a deep breath. "You don't have to tell me anything. That's not why I'm here."

Margaret studied him carefully. When she finally spoke, her voice was trembling. "Then why are you here?"

Elliot took a cautious step forward and watched as the door widened ever so slightly. "Because there's somebody I'd like for you to meet."

Olivia stepped forward out of the shadows. Margaret's eyes darted back and forth between them. "You're one of the detectives who came to campus asking questions about Michaela."

Olivia nodded. "Yes," she confirmed softly. "My name is Olivia. I'm here because I want to help you, but before I can do that…" She steadied her voice. "Before I do that, you deserve to know who I really am." She glanced over at Elliot. "Can we come in?"

There was no response, but the door opened fully and Margaret stepped aside, allowing her eyes to slide closed for a brief moment. When she opened them again, both Elliot and Olivia had stepped through and were surveying her apartment. Grudgingly, she followed them in and waited as they took a seat on the couch. "I don't understand. I thought you said you were a detective." Her focus was on Olivia as she shifted her weight back and forth nervously.

"I am," Olivia confirmed quietly. She took a deep breath. "But I'm also the person who's on trial for your husband's murder."

Margaret froze. Her fingers gripped the headrest of the armchair in front of her. The voice that escaped was barely more than a whisper. "Why are you here?"

"Because I'm about ready to go to prison for a crime that I didn't commit," Olivia responded hesitantly. "I'm about to lose my job, my friends, my family…" Olivia's voice finally broke as her eyes dropped down to the floor. "My partner," she finished quietly. She glanced back up, finally meeting Margaret's gaze. "And before that happens, I just need to know…I need to understand what happened."

Slowly, Margaret came around and slid into the chair beside her. "What makes you think that I can help you with that?" she demanded, her voice trembling.

"Because I think that you know what happened to Michaela," Olivia told her gently. "And I think that you know what happened to your husband. But I don't think you're a cold-blooded killer. Now I can help you. But you have to tell me the truth."

Margaret's face was stricken. She studied Olivia for a long moment in silence before finally she began to crumble. The first traces of tears slowly traced a path down her cheek. She didn't bother to brush them away. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant for anyone else to…to get hurt."

Olivia nodded. "Then tell me what happened."

Margaret's voice was halting when she finally spoke. "I was living in Quebec when I…when I first met Pasha," she began softly. She glanced back up at both of them. "I was teaching at a school there. And at first I thought it was too good to be true—he was handsome, charming…a brilliant dancer. "

"You fell in love with him," Olivia encouraged her softly.

Margaret nodded. "He took care of me. I'd never really had that before. When he asked me to marry him, I couldn't be happier."

"But then things changed," Olivia prompted her gently. She watched the expression on Margaret's face become troubled. "What happened?"

"We moved here when he was offered the job at Hudson, and I started up the school in Brooklyn. I used to do different outreach programs with some of the schools in the tri-state area. We would take the girls there for lecture demonstrations and they'd have the chance to perform outside of the city while we exposed other prospective dancers to our program. But…he kept telling me that the girls were too old—that we needed to start going to the elementary schools."

"He was using you as bait," Olivia murmured quietly. She met Elliot's eyes, and he silently encouraged her to continue on alone. "He let you get close to them, and then he lured the girls out."

Margaret nodded. "He was so supportive."

"Margaret, he wasn't being supportive. He was using you," Olivia interrupted gently.

"I know that now," Margaret managed quietly. She swallowed hard. "But I didn't know what he was doing until…until it was too late."

Olivia studied her carefully. Elliot was finally the one to break the silence. He tore his gaze away from Olivia and focused it solely on Margaret. His voice was steady, unwavering. "How did you find out?"

Margaret shook her head. "I…can't." She averted her eyes away.

"Did you find him with the other girls?" Olivia asked gently.

Margaret pursed her lips, her face turning pale. "No, I can't. I don't want to talk about it."

Elliot glanced over at Olivia and nodded. He turned his attention back to Margaret. "Your husband raped dozens of defenseless teenagers, and you stood by and let him do it," he seethed, his voice hardening.

Margaret drew herself up to her feet. "No, I…I didn't," she protested weakly.

Elliot stood up and crossed over to her quickly until they were eye to eye. "Yeah, you did," he spat back. "You helped him lure those girls out so that he could rape them."

Margaret shook her head. "No," she repeated. You've got it all wrong. I took care of them!"

"You didn't take care of them. You set them up to be raped," Elliot continued harshly. "You watched him take them aside. You watched him tell them that he wanted to have a child with them. And you did nothing to stop him."

Margaret's voice was trembling. "You don't understand. I couldn't stop him."

"You could have told somebody. You could have gotten help. But instead, you let him get away with it," Elliot shot back, his voice cold. "You let him get away with it, and then you murdered Michaela Spring to try to cover for him."

"No," Margaret insisted. "You're wrong. I…" Her voice was escalating rapidly until finally she realized she was shouting back at him. "I tried to help Michaela!" As soon as the words sank in, she froze in place. Her knees collapsed beneath her, and she slid to the floor, tears streaming down her face. "I tried to help her," she repeated woodenly.

Olivia took a step closer and knelt down beside her. "How?" she asked gently. "Margaret, how did you try to help her?"

Slowly, Margaret raised a tear-stained face. "It's all my fault," she admitted quietly. "I told her what he had planned for her baby. I tried to warn her, but she couldn't take it."

Olivia's voice was soft, comforting. "Couldn't take what?"

Margaret brushed back a single tear and rocked back on her feet. "The day she died, Michaela told him she would never let him have her baby." She swallowed hard. "And then…and then we watched her jump out the window." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "She would rather kill herself then go back to him and let him take her baby. And…and there was nothing I could do to stop her."

* * *

  
"Hey, come take a look at this."

Fin glanced up from the file in front of him and rubbed his eyes. "Did you find something?" he demanded quickly.

Munch nodded hesitantly. "It's our vics. You know how we couldn't find anything in common with them?"

Fin crossed his arms. "Yeah, they're all over the map—different ages, races, hair color, body type. There's no constant."

"That's where you're wrong," Munch mused. "Take a look at this—Kayla Cox was fourteen, Sasha Minden—fifteen. And Michaela Cox was sixteen."

"Yeah, but none of the other missing girls entered into CODIS fit that pattern," Fin interrupted. "All of the other girls were…" He hesitated and glanced at the file in front of him. He furrowed his brow. "All of them are between the ages of ten and twelve."

"Exactly, so why did Pasha suddenly change his mind and decide to go for older girls?" Munch declared triumphantly. "It doesn't fit with his previous pattern."

"A pedophile usually snatches another girl when his original victim ages out," Fin added. "Not go for someone older."

"But he's not a pedophile." Munch argued. "Think about it—Regina is his most recent victim. She's twenty. So why the age gap?"

Fin shook his head. "She may be twenty years old, but she still looks like she's about fourteen."

"She _looks_ like she's fourteen," Munch corrected him. "But physiologically, she _is_ twenty years old."

Fin nodded slowly. "You're saying that the whole pregnancy thing wasn't just to get her to sleep with him. You think there was something more to it?"

Munch pointed at him. "Bingo." He glanced back at the photos in front of him. "A woman is most fertile in her late teens to early twenties."

Fin shot him a look. "I'm not even going to ask how you know that," he mumbled.

Munch glared back at him and drew himself to his feet. "Yeah, well you try having four wives."

Fin ducked his head to hide the faintest hint of a smile. "No thanks. Once was enough for me."

"Yeah, well it's the proverbial curse of matrimony," Munch continued, his voice completely serious. "Sooner or later, that biological clock starts ticking, and you're the one who gets to hear all about it when it does."

Fin rolled his eyes. "Okay, so then why would Pasha actually want to get them pregnant? What exactly does he plan to do with all these babies?"

Munch pushed up his glasses and sighed. "After narcotics and weapons, what's the most profitable crime in the United States today?"

Fin sighed. "Human trafficking," he answered softly.

Munch nodded. "Right again," he answered quietly. "And Pasha managed to hit a double whammy. The only thing better than getting your money's worth out of one girl is getting double your money. Get a teen pregnant and it's two for the price of one."

Fin drew his head up slowly. "Those girls are still out there. We've got to find them."

Munch shook his head. "The only way we're going to find them is if we can get Margaret Stilton to talk. She's the only one who can tell us where Pasha was keeping those girls."

* * *

  
"Margaret, what was he going to do with the baby?"

Margaret drew in a shaky breath and turned away from Olivia. "The first one was an accident. He never meant for her to get pregnant. But afterwards, there was a…a demand for it," Margaret began slowly. She shot a helpless look over at Olivia. "If it was a boy, he'd just sell him off. But the girls…" She swallowed hard. "He'd take the girls to a special gynecologist who would inspect her and if he thought her…" Margaret broke off, unable to finish.

Olivia rocked back on her heels, a lump in her throat. "You're talking about touching," she managed quietly.

Elliot turned toward her confused. "What do you mean touching?"

Olivia turned toward him. "It's a practice in Nigeria where traffickers force young teens to have sex until they become pregnant. Then they take the girls that are born, inspect their genitals, and if they're deemed suitable, adopt them and force them into prostitution as soon as they're old enough."

Margaret nodded quietly. "There's a high demand for virgins, especially in the Asian and Indian communities. There's a superstition that many men from India believe a virgin can cure STD's or AIDS. If they were young enough, Pasha could make two or three times more for them."

Elliot swallowed hard. He drew his head up slowly. "How many men are we talking about here?"

Margaret dropped her head down and averted her eyes away from his. "On a good day…up to fourteen."

"And you did nothing to stop him?" Elliot demanded. "You let him send those girls to be raped more than a dozen times a day?"

"I _couldn't_ stop him!" Margaret cried out bitterly. "I didn't know what else to do. I wanted to help them, and the only thing that I could do was try to convince them to listen to him."

"And what happened when they didn't?" Olivia ventured quietly.

Margaret brushed aside a tear. "When they didn't, he would put them in isolation. He would chain them up to a bed where he would beat them and rape them over and over until they finally gave in to him."

Olivia searched her eyes. "Is that what happened to you?" she prodded gently.

Margaret's eyes fluttered shut. "I married him," she admitted quietly, her voice haunted. "A girl doesn't marry a man who would do that to her."

Olivia nodded quietly. "That's not what I asked. Margaret, did he rape you?"

Her eyes finally opened and when she spoke, the voice that escaped was barely more than a whisper. "Yes."

Olivia's eyes darted over to Elliot's for a brief moment before returning to Margaret. "Is that why you killed him?"

Margaret's shoulders slumped forward dejectedly. "No." She swallowed hard. "We got in a fight. He started to beat me with a lamp. When it was over, I started to walk away, but then I saw…" She drew in a shaky breath. "In the entryway, there was a bag. The gun had fallen out of it, and it was like some sort of gift."

"So you went back in and shot him?" Olivia pressed gently.

Margaret nodded. "He didn't even know what hit him. He never knew about my trips to the shooting range. I didn't know what else to do."

Olivia gently encouraged her to look back up. "Margaret, if you knew how to protect yourself, why would you let him hurt you? Why would you let him hurt all those girls?"

Margaret bit down on her lip. "It wasn't Pasha I was worried about."

Her words sank in slowly. Olivia sat back for a moment. "He was working with a partner," she managed. Her eyes darted over at Elliot. "Margaret, I promise you that we'll protect you. He can't hurt you if you just tell me who he is. Now I know that you don't want anything more to happen to those girls, but this is really important. Where did he take them?"

Margaret shook her head adamantly. "I can't tell you."

"Margaret." Olivia leaned forward so that she was at eye level with her. "Margaret, there are still girls out there that are missing. And if they're still alive, we can help them. But you have to tell me where they are."

Margaret slowly raised a tear-stained face to meet Olivia's eyes. She swallowed hard. "You don't understand," she managed, her voice unsteady. "I can't stop him. I've never been able to stop him. And if he finds out that I've spoken to you…"

"He's not going to find out," Olivia promised her. "Margaret, we're going to arrest him. We're going to put him someplace where he can never hurt another girl again. I promise you that, but you have to tell me who he is."

Margaret's eyes fluttered shut. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. "His name is Dale—Dale Spring." She bit down on her lip. "Am I going to go to jail now?"

Olivia sighed. "We'll talk to the ADA. We'll see what she can do." She hesitated. "Margaret, there's still one thing I don't understand. Why shoot him now after all these years? What changed?"

Margaret drew her feet into her chest. "A couple of months ago, I found out I was pregnant." She buried her head in her knees. "I couldn't let him take away my baby too."

* * *


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

* * *

  
"One, two…" Fin nodded over to Munch on three just before he kicked the door in. He didn't even hear the protests from the door as it splintered open.

There was a flourish of activity as everyone moved in. With one final glance over at his partner, Fin took the lead, pushing off to the right, his eyes focused straight ahead. He pushed open the first door he came to and stopped, his blood running cold.

"You have a friend too?" A young girl jerked her head toward him. "I'll show both of you a good time."

Before she could move, Fin was whipping the man standing next to her around and pinning him against the wall. "Police," he snarled. He slapped the cuffs now in his hands over the man's wrists. "What's your name?" he demanded.

"Go to hell," the man shot back.

"You first," Fin returned. "Whatever the hell your name is, you're under arrest for patronizing a prostitute and attempted rape. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say can be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you."

"I don't need an attorney. I didn't do anything," the man protested testily.

"Yeah, Fin scoffed. "Well, in case you haven't heard, it's illegal to solicit sex from a minor." He hesitated at the sound of a door opening behind him. Fin turned his head briefly and watched a couple of uniformed officers bust through the door. 'Here," he managed, shoving the still protesting man toward them. "Take him into custody and lock him up somewhere tight."

As soon as the door slid shut, Fin turned toward the young girl now beside him. Her eyes had widened as she carefully eyed the door. He tossed her a robe lying out on a chaise. "Here, put this on," he offered gently.

She was trembling as she pulled the fabric over her slender frame. "I'm not a prostitute," she managed quietly. "I'm a…I'm a virgin."

Fin nodded quietly. "It's okay. I'm a police officer, and I'm here to help you. What's your name?"

"I'm a virgin," she repeated quietly. She turned toward him in panic. "Please," she pleaded. Just…whatever you do—don't take me away."

* * *

  
"John."

Munch snapped back to attention and glanced up quickly to see Cragen walking toward him. He noted his captain's sharp gaze sweeping over him and nudged his glasses up ever so slightly. I'm fine," he responded quickly.

Cragen nodded quietly. "Well, at least that makes one of us."

Munch's head shot up at the unexpected answer. "What are you talking about?"

Cragen reached for his arm and pulled him out of the way as another group came through with two more suspects in tow."You know this isn't an easy time for anyone to be working, John, but this case was…"

"She was ten," Munch interrupted him. His eyes fell to the floor as silence enveloped them. "She was ten years old and being rented out as a virgin to fourteen guys a day." He swallowed hard.

"I know." Cragen drew in a deep breath. "John," he began gently, "it's okay to feel something on cases like this."

Munch looked up and rolled his eyes. "Feel something…don't feel something. What difference does it make? It's not going to change anything."

Cragen leaned back against the wall. "No, you're right." He nodded over to a young teen crying in the corner. "But there are a lot more girls like that who could use your help. And you can't do anything for them if you don't help yourself first."

Munch stared back at him in silence. Finally he spoke. "Sometimes it feels like the only way to help them is to not let yourself feel anything because when you start to let it affect you, you start to wonder why…why do it at all?"

Cragen drew his gaze up to study Munch carefully before continuing. "You know there will always be cases like this," he responded quietly. "Cases that make you question whether we make a difference with everything we do. And no matter what you do, there will always be another one out there, but you can't hold onto that. You can only be there for those who need you right now."

Munch averted his eyes away. "Olivia's niece would have been his next victim," he added. "No matter how many people we try to protect, it's those closest to us that are still at risk. And it doesn't matter if we try to hold them close or push them away, we're still going to be the last to know it."

"John," Cragen began gently.

"You know I thought it would be easier being single," John interrupted. "You know not having a family who needs you. We try so hard to protect those we love, and I thought…I thought that maybe if we didn't have anyone to love, it would be easier."

Cragen nodded silently. "Come on, John."

Munch straightened slightly. His eyes followed Cragen's back to the young teen still all alone in the corner. "No, I've got her," he answered quietly. Leaving his captain behind, he approached the girl cautiously and knelt down beside her. "Hi, my name is John. Is it okay if I'm here?"

The girl nodded hesitantly in response.

"I'd like to take you someplace safe," he continued quietly. "But it might help if you would tell me your name."

Her eyes grew wide with fear as she studied him carefully.

"It's okay. You're not in trouble. I just want to help you," Munch assured her quietly.

She nodded again and tentatively took the hand he offered her. "Kayla," she responded quietly, pulling herself to her feet. "My name is Kayla.

Munch nodded in recognition at the name. "Hi Kayla. We'd like to take you to a hospital to make sure that you're okay. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Her voice was suddenly wavering as she clung to his side. "Will you go with me?"

Munch hesitated and looked into her big brown eyes. His voice was gruff when he finally spoke. "Sure. Come on, let's take you outside to the ambulance."

* * *

  
"Where is he?"

Fin glanced over at his partner who was leading a young teen over to where EMS had set up camp and sighed. Munch nodded back helplessly, and Fin took Olivia's arm and pulled her aside gently. "He's not here. We're still looking for him."

Olivia swallowed hard. "What do you mean Dale's not here? He has to be here. I promised her…I promised her that I would arrest him. Fin, we have to find him."

"We will," he assured her quietly. He glanced over in Elliot's direction hesitantly. "Liv…maybe you shouldn't be here."

_It was Fin._

Fin telling her to step back. Fin telling her she needed a break. Fin saying the only thing that all of them thought, but none of them had the guts to tell her. Olivia's head shot up, and she took a tentative step backward. "What are you saying?" she demanded, her voice suddenly unsteady.

"Look, we can take the heat for continuing with the investigation, but you…that's another story entirely."

Olivia took another step backward and drew in a shaky breath. "Are you saying you don't think I can handle this?"

Fin sighed. "No," he answered simply. He looked around as if somebody else might somehow come out to offer her an answer. Finally his gaze settled back on her. His voice was suddenly firm. "I'm saying you're still on trial for murder and shouldn't be around this crime scene."

"I'm the one who uncovered this whole thing," Olivia retorted incredulously. "I deserve to see it through."

Fin nodded and glanced helplessly back in Elliot's direction. "Yeah, you do," he agreed quietly. "But what you and I think and what the brass thinks are two entirely different things. Do you know how much trouble you could be in? You're not even supposed to be carrying your weapon."

Olivia's eyes darted down to the holster strapped to her belt. It was empty. She swallowed hard. "I'm not."

Fin sighed. "That's my point exactly. It's not safe for you to be here."

Olivia drew herself up to her full height and glared back at him. "I am _not_ a civilian. I know how to protect myself."

"Yeah, but things happen. I mean look what happened at…" As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized there was no taking them back. He froze. Her face was instantly pale, and she took a shaky step backward as if he had slapped her. He reached for her arm. "Liv, that's not what I meant."

Her lower lip was trembling, and she shrugged away from him as she fought for control. "Stop it," she managed quietly.

"Is everything all right?" Elliot suddenly appeared and took a cautious step forward, the look on his face puzzled as his eyes darted back and forth between the two of them.

"Everything's fine," Fin answered without moving away. His eyes never left her.

"Liv," Elliot ventured softly. Tentatively, he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

His touch burned into her, and she pushed back away from him violently. "Don't touch me!" she hissed. Her eyes stung with tears she refused to allow come forward. She lifted her chin, fighting to steady her voice. "Do you have the sedan keys?"

Elliot studied her carefully as he reached inside his jacket pocket. "Yeah," he answered quietly. He tentatively held up the keys. "Are you…"

Before he could say another word, she snatched the keys out of his hand. "I'm fine," she insisted, fighting back the tremble in her voice.

And then she did the one thing that crushed every bit of the progress he thought they had begun to make in the past twenty-four hours. She began to walk away.

Elliot shot a helpless look back at Fin before turning to follow her. He jogged after her, determined to catch up with her. "Olivia," he called out. He held his breath and reached out for her one more time. As soon as his hand settled over her arm, she was frozen in place. Then as he finally drew in a shaky breath, she turned around slowly. His eyes searched hers, but he felt lost at the scorching glare she shot back at him. He swallowed hard. "Liv, what just happened?"

His eyes never left hers. And slowly, he watched them change. Watched as the anger dissipated and the emptiness left behind tore a hole right through his heart. "Nothing. Just…just leave me alone, El."

And without another word, she was gone.

* * *

  
"Elliot!"

Elliot blinked for a long moment and stared at her retreating back. He turned toward his captain, and his hand shot up before he could say another word. He whipped back around and headed toward where Fin was standing. "What the hell just happened?" he demanded.

Fin sighed. "What were you thinking bringing her here?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean 'what was I thinking'? She's my partner, and she's a part of this squad," Elliot shot back. "Why the hell wouldn't I bring her here?"

"Because she's on trial for murder! Do you know what Petrovsky would say if she knew that Olivia was on scene while this whole thing goes down? Do you know what kind of story Tracy Kibre could spin off of this?" Fin glared back at him and struggled to calm his voice. "Didn't Darius Parker teach you anything?"

There was a stunned silence. "So that's what this is about?" Elliot demanded. "What—you feel guilty that your nephew got off so now you want to turn this around on Olivia." His voice was rising to a dangerous level, but he didn't care. "Where the hell have you been the whole time she's been in court? Where have any of you been?"

"Right here," Fin shouted back. "Here—trying to solve this case which you seem to have completely forgotten about. As much as you or I want to believe the law is all about justice, both of us know it's not. If it were, Olivia wouldn't even be on trial." Fin hesitated at the lost look on Elliot's face. He lowered his voice. "Now Alex is one hell of a prosecutor, and I have no doubt she makes a great defense attorney, but she's not the one who's going to get Olivia out of this?"

Elliot stared back at him wordlessly.

Fin looked around helplessly and sighed. "Elliot, other people saw her here. And Margaret's confession isn't going to mean a damn thing if the jury never gets to hear it because they think that she's somehow involved. Now somebody had to tell her to go home. Captain's still trying to sort this whole thing out. I thought you'd rather it be me."

Fin's words slammed into him hard. Elliot staggered backward until suddenly he felt his back pressing up against the edge of the building. He turned away from Fin and attempted to draw in a breath against the crushing weight pressing into his lungs.

"Elliot," Fin attempted softly.

There was no response. Elliot flattened his palms against the edge of the building. He had no idea when he finally lost all sense of control, but when he finally turned his head back toward Fin, there were tears in his eyes. "You don't understand," he began quietly.

Elliot's eyes slid closed as he fought back the emotion in his voice. "Every time I think there's a turn in the case…every time I think we just might be winning, I look at the jury." He swallowed hard and turned his back toward the wall, leaning back against it. "I look at the jury, and they're looking at her like she did something wrong." He drew in a shaky breath. "Fin, so much has happened. I feel like I don't even know who the hell she is anymore."

"Elliot," Cragen began gently, coming up beside him.

Elliot shook his head and ignored his captain. His voice was hoarse with emotion as he struggled to hold it together again. "That used to scare me," he continued, his voice broken. "But now, what I'm really afraid of is that I'm not going to get the chance to figure it out because she's going to be locked away behind bars someplace where she's never going to be the same ever again."

"Elliot," Cragen repeated softly. He glanced around helplessly. "There's nothing you can do to change any of that right now. But I have a dozen officers trying to take these johns into custody and a couple dozen girls inside that need your help now. They need somebody to tell them it's going to be okay."

Elliot's eyes flew over to his captain's. He swallowed the knot in his throat. "And what if it's not?" he managed.

Cragen drew in a deep breath. "Then God help us all."

* * *

  
"How's she doing?"

A doctor glanced up at the concern on Munch's face and drew a curtain. She waited until they were a few steps away before she finally spoke. "About the same as the others," she managed quietly. "She has multiple healed fractures, severe scarring of the vaginal lining, pelvic inflammatory disease…"

Much nodded quietly and followed along beside her. "But it's all treatable, right?"

The doctor nodded silently. She stopped at the nursing center in the middle of the hospital and leaned up against the countertop as she jotted down a couple of notes. "For the most part—there's a slight chance she might not be able to have any children ever again, but…"

"Dr. Kauffman!"

A young nurse came up behind them and slid a lab report over in front of her. Munch glanced over her shoulder curiously as she reached for her reading glasses. Slipping them on, she scanned the paper before sliding it back into the file. She sighed. "Not that it makes a difference," she added quietly.

Munch's voice was cautious. "What does that mean?"

Dr. Kauffman turned back toward him. "We'll have to do a serum test to confirm it, but the preliminary lab report is showing signs that Kayla is HIV positive." She turned back toward the nursing station and gripped the edge of the desk, her voice suddenly emotional. "Just when you thought the bastard that did this to her couldn't hurt her any worse."

Munch felt his heart sink. He took a step closer and put a reassuring hand on her arm. She glanced back up at him and swallowed hard. "Don't ask yourself why," he told her quietly. "It will only make it worse."

"Yeah, well, tell that to her, Sergeant," Dr. Kauffman added bitterly. As Munch's phone vibrated, she turned away and picked up the file.

"Sergeant Munch."

Dr. Kauffman watched as another nurse opened the curtain again to check on Kayla. She was sitting on the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest and her chin resting lightly on her hands. She swallowed hard.

Munch was still on the phone when she finally turned away. "Excuse me," she interrupted quietly. "I have to go talk to my patient."

* * *

  
"Please tell me it's not true."

Three sets of eyes automatically turned toward Alex's voice. Elliot was the first to speak. He leaned back in the chair across from Cragen's desk and sighed. "What's not true?"

Alex turned an accusing glare at Elliot. "You didn't tell me you were planning on using Olivia to get a confession out of Margaret."

Fin was quick to speak up for him. "What difference does it make? We got a confession out of her, Alex. We have more than a couple dozen girls who are finally getting the help they need and a dozen men safely behind bars."

"And not one of your victims will admit who hurt them," Alex protested. "They're too traumatized. All they can say is a woman brought them there—a woman whose description I might add sounds a hell of a lot like Olivia."

Cragen shot to his feet. "Whoa, wait a minute, Alex. There's no way you're telling me that anyone can put this on Olivia."

Alex glared back at him. "Sure they can," she shot back. "Margaret Stilton was nowhere near that crime scene, but now everyone wants to know what we're trying to cover up because Olivia sure as hell was."

"Olivia came there with me. I was there with her almost the whole time," Elliot argued tersely.

"But you weren't there with her the _whole_ time," Alex countered. "I was just called to Petrovsky's chambers. Olivia's bail has officially been revoked."

"Wait a minute," Cragen interrupted. "Why the hell would she do that? Doesn't the fact that we uncovered this whole thing prove that Olivia is innocent?"

"Not when a judge throws out Margaret's confession because she was questioned by the person on trial for her husband's murder," Alex shot back. "Somehow she managed to get Matthew Brady as her attorney who spun a nice little tale of police persecution out of the whole thing and got the indictment thrown out."

"Whoa, how could you let that happen?" Elliot interrupted. "Margaret offered that confession up to Olivia with almost no prompting."

"That's great, Elliot," Alex retorted sarcastically. "Then you can be the one to explain that to Judge Petrovsky." She struggled to gain control over the emotion in her voice. "But while you're there, she's also going to ask for a damn good explanation on why Olivia disappeared after she was called down to talk to IAB."

Alex drew in a shaky breath and lowered her voice, turning an accusing glare over at Cragen. "And if someone would have given me one, it might have helped my case."

_There was complete silence._

Cragen was the first to finally speak. "What do you mean Olivia disappeared?"

Alex's eyes surveyed the shocked looks in front of her. "You don't have any idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Fin swallowed hard. "No, we haven't seen her since I told her to leave the scene."

All eyes flew over to Elliot. He pushed himself up to his feet, his jaw clenching noticeably and walked across Cragen's office until he was eye to eye with Fin. "What happened?" he demanded.

"All I did was tell her to leave," Fin countered helplessly.

Elliot's eyes glared back at him accusingly. "Damn it, Fin. I know there's more to it than that. What the hell did you say to her?"

"Nothing," he returned. He sighed, his voice suddenly quiet. "I told her it wasn't safe for her to be on the scene unarmed. I mentioned something about the last time…" He trailed off.

"Damn it," Elliot swore lightly under his breath. Slowly he turned around and in the silence that followed, he met his captain's eyes. "That day when Olivia came into your office," he demanded quietly. He swallowed hard. "What did you do with Olivia's Glock when she turned it into you?"

All eyes immediately turned toward Cragen. He lowered his eyes and pushed his chair back. As soon as his eyes settled on the drawer in front of him, he saw the busted lock. The drawer slid open without hesitation, and he didn't even have to glance down to know it wasn't there.

"It's missing."

* * *


	30. Chapter 30

**_A/N: Okay, sorry about the delay on this update. I really didn't mean to leave you with a cliffhanger for so long. My computer died on me & it took a little bit of work to get a new one and recover my files in order to piece this together again. A huge thanks to Ciely and Nat for helping me convert my files & to Crystal and all of you SVUTG'ers for helping me with my research while on a bus ride to Boston. This one is for all of you..._**

* * *

Chapter 30

* * *

"What the hell was she thinking?" Fin was the only one brazen enough to speak the thoughts on everyone's mind.

Munch turned toward Huang in desperation. "I just came from her apartment—she's not there. Simon hasn't heard from her and neither has the rest of her family. So where the hell is she?"

Huang nodded quietly and looked around at the rest of the squad gathered around, waiting expectantly for his response. "She's trapped," he managed quietly.

"What do you mean trapped?" Cragen asked carefully.

Huang hesitated. "Olivia has no choice but to finally accept what's happened to her. You've taken away all of her defense mechanisms, and now she's not quite sure what to do with that. After a sexual assault, survivors experience a heightened sense of high emotionality and anxiety. That's normal for all of us, but with Olivia, it never goes away. Every time she denies she needs help, that hyper-aroused state keeps building inside of her until she loses her ability to return to that baseline level. So instead she's turning to coping behaviors to try to numb that—the drinking, the promiscuity, working all hours. She's trying to find a way to control her body's physiological response instead of looking for positive coping skills that help her counteract that. And one by one, she's losing those coping mechanisms—first the promiscuity, then the drinking, and now she feels like she's been shut out from her job."

"Okay," Cragen acknowledged quietly. "So when that's all been taken away, what happens next? Where does she go?"

"Back to the only way that she knows how to deal with it all," Huang added quietly. "And knowing Olivia, she's not going to do anything halfway. She's not going to know when to stop."

* * *

The lights of the city settling into dusk filtered in from within the dimly lit room, but Olivia was barely conscious of every passing moment as she stared straight ahead. Her bangs fell forward in her face, but she made no move to brush them back. From beside her, someone reached forward, tucking the loose strands behind her ear.

"Can I buy you a drink?" The voice was a raspy whisper that commanded her attention.

She drew her head up slowly and focused on the source of the voice. Her heart was pounding. Olivia watched as he settled in on the bar stool next to her. He moved closer, brushing his arm lightly against hers. She finally expelled the breath she had been holding. Her voice was a breathless whisper when it escaped. "Sure."

His lips curved upward in satisfaction. He leaned forward, his breath hot on her neck as if challenging her. She didn't dare move. His fingers finally settled on the beer bottle in front of her and spun it toward the bartender. "Scotch on the rocks."

She had been drinking a Miller Genuine Draft.

As he slid the scotch in front of her, he watched her reaction. She tilted her chin up, reached for the tumbler, and drew it to her lips.

It was reckless. It was dangerous. She didn't care.

Every fiber of her being was telling her to stop. But she had never known how to listen to that voice—had never been able to admit when she pushed herself too hard or too far. And now she just didn't care. She had nothing left to lose.

Olivia threw her head back and ignored the burning sensation that followed. She let it overtake her need to claim control. His hand moved closer, and she let him invade her space, allowed him to claim a part of her. She wasn't sure at what point that had stopped being difficult, and she wasn't ready to take the time to figure it out because when she did, it would mean acknowledging that Harris had changed another part of her, another piece that could never be the same again. It meant admitting that something had happened.

It was easier to pretend it hadn't.

His hand rested lightly on hers, and she stared straight ahead without moving. She blinked back the memories that rushed forth. Memories of other nights like this. She could still feel them next to her. Still feel their warm breath on her neck, their lips pressed against hers—could still feel them pushing inside of her.

She had let them.

Had let them use her body to satisfy their own physical needs without any regard for her own. Had let them tear into her until the hollowness that was left when they finished took over every one of her senses and left her unable to discern between memories that needed to be forgotten and new ones that only served to further solidify those she needed to escape. She had needed to let them because she had needed to feel that somehow doing so could break through the numbness surrounding her. The same numbness consuming her now.

He nudged another drink in front of her, and Olivia allowed her fingers to circle around it. As she hesitated, he watched. Watched with eyes that never missed a beat and started to move away. She couldn't let him. She couldn't lose him now. She picked up the drink.

_What the hell was she thinking?_

He watched in satisfaction as she tilted her head back. When the burning in the back of her throat finally subsided, he drew her toward him again. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously low. Í don't believe we've met."

She stared straight ahead for a long moment before she finally returned his gaze. "Olivia."

* * *

"Damn it, Olivia. She's still not answering."

Elliot slammed the receiver back in its cradle. His hand stung from the impact, but there was no pain attached to it. There was nothing but the dull, numbing sensation of dread coursing through his veins. It took hold of him in a way that paralyzed him with fear. Because he had no idea what to expect, had no idea where to even look. Wordlessly, he raised his gaze and allowed it to settle on the void across from his desk.

She was gone.

Her desk had alternated between being stripped bare and filled with her favorite photos since this whole mess started, but now it wasn't the lack of her physical presence or any of her belongings that got to him. It was the lack of her. It was the two red pens, the two pencils, and the single black marker left in the cup holder. And the glaring absence of the one pen she always left out.

A pen that was now positioned next to his keyboard.

And as the world came crashing down around him, Elliot held onto the only thing that he had left—a silver colored click pen with black rubber grip. It was placed carefully on his desk—an offering, an apology, a goodbye. And suddenly he knew without a shadow of a doubt, she had left her desk for the last time—left it empty and open for whoever would take her place.

Because she had no intention of ever coming back.

The air was stifling—closing in around him as he struggled to find even a glimpse of the piece of himself he had never realized was missing until now. There was a part of him that had broken—shattered bit by bit every year by violence and degradation so extreme that it ate away at his soul until he wasn't sure he could make it through another day. It was a piece of him that could only be completed by the one person who opened herself up fully to take in every bit of his rage, his sorrow, and his inability to express any of it.

She accepted all of it unconditionally as the only way she knew to give him back some sense of the strength he needed to move forward. Every bit of the fragile hold she had left over from a lifetime of pain had been offered up to him until the day he had known would finally come. He should have known that even her strength could only bear so much, and that when everything she had left in her finally dissipated, it would be the one thing that would break both of them.

"You don't think she would try to hurt herself, do you?"

Munch's voice filtered through his subconscious, but Elliot pushed away the words. Pushed away the meaning behind them. His eyes stung with a despair he wasn't ready to acknowledge and all he could do was hold onto a single click pen that represented the only thing he had left of her. And the tiny piece of composure that offered him was rapidly unraveling in her glaring absence.

_You think that I…You think I did this on purpose?_

"Elliot," Cragen interrupted gently. He settled back on the edge of Olivia's desk, disturbing the emptiness around him. "Elliot, we need your help here. Do you think she might hurt herself?"

_El, I didn't…I mean I would never…I thought you knew me better than that._

Slowly, Elliot raised his gaze back up to meet his captain's eyes. The squad room slowly came into focus around him. "No," he said woodenly. "She wouldn't do that." Even as the words escaped, he said a silent prayer that they were true. But the truth was, he was terrified of the fact that he didn't know.

"Then where is she?"

They were all waiting—waiting for his response to Cragen's question. Waiting for an answer, waiting for hope that he might somehow be able to provide one. And he had no idea what to tell them. He had no idea how to explain that he felt like he no longer knew who she was. But that every fiber of his being that did know her was coursing with uncertainty and fear.

"I don't know." His voice was hollow, empty. He didn't care that it was trembling. He didn't care that he was on the verge of tears. He didn't care about anything except the fact that he needed her. He needed her beside him. Needed her to not give up on him. Because he was desperately afraid of what that would do to him.

Cragen's voice was firm, strong—the polar opposite of every bit of uncertainty within them all. It was everything Elliot needed and was afraid to find all at once. "Yes, you do," he offered softly.

Elliot dropped his head into his hands. "No, I don't." His voice shattered.

"Elliot," Cragen prodded gently. He waited until Elliot slowly raised his head. He swallowed hard at the despair held in his gaze. "She's your partner. Nobody knows her better than you do."

_Elliot, you know everything about me—even the parts that I'd rather forget._

Elliot swallowed hard. From the first day he had met her, she had fascinated him—her story, her fierce determination, her secrets. Her history was one she embraced and pushed away all at the same time in a way he had never been able to fully understand, but had always needed to. Because he knew that if he could finally understand every layer, every part of her, he stood a chance at penetrating the protective shield that was Olivia Benson.

He had spent years studying her every movement, her ever word—deciphering it and putting it into a context he could understand. And yet somehow he had missed it, had pushed away what it was she had been trying to tell him in that moment.

_Even the parts that I'd rather forget._

They never spoke in direct conversations—their words were a circle that closed around everything they wanted to say and never knew how. They spoke of anything and everything but the one thing that needed to be said, and somehow that was always enough. Olivia hadn't been telling him that he knew her—she had been asking him if he was ready to know her.

And she knew that those words would be enough because he knew how to read her.

He knew that her inability to look at him as she spoke the words had nothing to do with the memories that invoked them and everything to do with her inability to verbally give him everything that she needed to share. He knew by the way she threaded her hands together as she spoke that she was tearing herself up with an internal struggle over the fact that as much as she needed to give him more, she needed to help give him strength so that he could fight for his family. He knew by the way she shook her head as she spoke that there was a story waiting to be drawn out.

He had never asked for it when Kathleen pled guilty and he had been emotionally ready to handle whatever it was she had to give.

Because a part of him had been afraid of what he might find out about her.

Elliot drew himself to his feet, his gaze trained on her desk. He needed to know—needed to finally understand her. It was the only hope he had at helping her. At helping himself. Because the day she walked away, he had every intention of walking out right behind her.

"No, she wouldn't hurt herself," he repeated with a new sense of resolve.

His eyes scanned her desk—looking for answers. Needing answers. And then it hit him. She couldn't walk out empty-handed. No matter how hard she tried to walk away, she never could. These cases claimed a part of her she could never give back.

_The Eric Plumber case._ He had watched her try to walk away from it, and had watched the way she instinctively reached for the case file on her way out the door.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was throwing open the bottom drawer on the left side of her desk where she kept every file she didn't want to acknowledge she couldn't let go. He tossed the files on her empty desk—Laurel Andrews, Mia Lorimer, Valerie Sennet, Victor Gitano, Hillary Barclay, Ashley Austin Black, Darrel Guan, Eric Plumber…a lifetime worth of bottom drawer files that would haunt her with every day she moved past them.

_It wasn't there._

Elliot whipped back around and headed toward the computer station. "Get me everything we've got on Dale Spring," he demanded. Adrenaline began coursing through his veins as he watched Munch nod in understanding and punch in a couple of keys on the keyboard.

Cragen jogged back to his office and grabbed his own copy of the file. "You think she knows where he is?" he responded breathlessly as he flipped it open and started skimming through it.

Elliot nodded, staring intently at the screen in front of him. "I don't know how, but she knows. I'd bet my life on it."

Alex looked alarmed. "Is she crazy? If she tries to arrest Dale Spring on her own, we're screwed. There's no way I can fight that."

"Your case will be the least of our concerns if we don't find her soon," Elliot returned tersely.

"Okay, Dale was released from Rikers two months ago," Fin began quickly. "Served two years for a drug wrap."

"Which means he would have had to start working with Pasha before he went in," Cragen mused quietly.

"Talk about starting close to home—Michaela was the first one of the three to disappear—what kind of father sells his only daughter for sex trafficking?" Munch demanded.

"The kind who wouldn't think twice about hurting anyone who gets in his way," Fin returned grimly.

Elliot nodded. "That's exactly what she's counting on."

Four sets of startled gazes settled over Elliot. Finally Alex was the first to speak. "What does that mean?" she asked quietly.

Elliot didn't tear his eyes away from the screen as he studied it carefully. "Olivia could care less about her own safety right now. If she can bring him in herself, she thinks she can handle coming back to the unit. But if she can't…" He swallowed hard. "She has no intention of walking out of there."

Cragen's jaw tightened. "What do we know about Dale from before he was incarcerated? He has to be somewhere."

"The address listed on his parole papers is old—we already checked that one out," Fin shot back. He wracked his brain to remember more. "He was never taken in for any DV calls, but he was arrested for a couple of petty charges—check fraud, forgery."

"Yeah, but obviously not enough evidence for any of the charges to stick. He never went to trial," Alex pointed out. She sighed and watched Munch abandon the computer station in favor of his desk. He started fumbling through his notes.

"Wait a minute," Cragen spoke up, skimming the file in front of him. "It wasn't lack of evidence—it was the victim refused to testify against him."

Fin studied the computer screen in front of him. "Well, who was the victim?"

"It was his wife," Munch announced from his desk. He scribbled an address on a piece of paper and tossed it over at Elliot. "He was using his ex-wife's information to pay for his drug habit, knowing full well she would be too afraid to take him to trial."

"And…" Elliot added, staring down at the piece of paper now in his hand.

"We never found a home for unwed mothers registered under Margaret Stillton," Fin began slowly, catching his partner's gaze.

"That's because it wasn't registered under Margaret's name. It was registered under Sharon Trenton," Munch declared as he turned to follow Fin out the door. The address is in Red Hook."

Cragen was already grabbing his jacket and heading out the door. "Come on—let's go." As Elliot reached for the keys, he turned hesitantly toward Alex. "You're staying here," he ordered.

Alex glared back at him and ignored Huang's attempts to pull her back. "Like hell I am."

* * *

_Olivia._

His lips curved into a smile as his eyes traveled the length of her body, studying her intently. They finally settled on her eyes. Her head was pounding, her breathing shallow as she waited for what she knew was coming. He reached forward and pulled her back toward him, tossing a wad of cash on the bar. "Olivia, huh?"

He watched her nod in response. Olivia took an unsteady step forward, closing the distance between them. She could smell the faint traces of alcohol on his breath as he drew the jacket she had left over the back of the barstool over her shoulders. She reached for her phone, flipped it open, and was halfway through composing a text message when his touch burned into her wrist.

"Put your phone away."

Without waiting for a response, he picked up the phone and snapped it shut without a second glance. Olivia held her breath as he tossed it into her purse. "Come on," he demanded. "It's time to get out of here."

She didn't move.

His eyes widened slightly as they studied her, attempted to decipher her sudden change of movement. He stepped back toward her, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I don't go home with strangers." Her voice was suddenly soft, but firm. She arched an eyebrow at him and waited for his response.

"Well, then I guess we'd better get to know each other." He sidled up next to her again and the single word, however expected, shot chills down her spine. "Dale."

He backed away from her and stepped toward the curb, summoning a taxi. Olivia stood perfectly still as she watched him. As the single car pulled over to the side of the road, she finally stepped forward to follow him. Her words, when spoken, were swept away by the wind. "I know."

* * *


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

* * *

"Elliot."

It was all a haze.

Movement everywhere. Flashing lights. Sirens. Uniformed officers running back and forth between the ambulances waiting outside and the frightened teens inside. For once, none of it mattered.

None of it even came close to piercing through the image emblazoned in his memory.

The body laid out on the floor—raped, beaten, bruised. The only testament to her efforts to help the frightened teens gathered inside was a single pool of blood left over from the gunshot wound.

"Elliot," Cragen repeated softly. He felt, rather than saw his captain lay a hand gently on his shoulder and pull him back away from the scene in front of him. "Elliot, there was nothing you could have done."

Elliot shook his head, returning his gaze to the lifeless figure still in front of him. He couldn't tear his eyes away. His voice was hollow, empty when he spoke. "Don't tell me there was nothing I could have done to save her."

Cragen nodded wordlessly and gently pulled him away, leading him outside to where Munch and Fin were already gathered. "Come on."

"There's no sign of Dale." Fin was the first one to break the silence surrounding them. His voice was grim.

"What about the girls? Can any of them tell us how long it's been since he's been here?" Cragen's voice held a certain ring of desperation to it. It shocked them all into silence. He swallowed hard and fought to steady his voice. "One of them has to know something."

"They're scared," Munch responded quietly. "They've been taught not to trust the police. You've got half a dozen pregnant, hormonal teenagers who are suddenly all alone and afraid for their life. You try getting through to them."

"Well, we have to try something." Alex bit down on her lip to fight back the tremble in her voice. She closed her eyes, but it did nothing to stop the images from rushing forth—the gun pointed toward her, the gut-wrenching sound as the first shot rang out, the squeal of the tires as they pulled away from the curb. Her eyes flew open again and she fought for a gulp of air.

"Alex," Cragen began gently. "Come on. Officer Ramirez can take you back to the House until this whole thing is over. You don't need to be here."

"I'm not leaving her!" Alex bit down on her lip. Damn it. She hated the weakness in her own voice. Hated the vulnerability that came through no matter how much she tried to hide it. She used to be able to do this. She used to be able to handle this. She had spent five years fighting to overcome memories of Liam Connors. Five years of dreaming what it would be like to come back.

Five years of waiting for the rush that came from a case and the feeling that just maybe justice could prevail over all those sleepless nights.

She had tried to go back. Had silently stood in the back of the courtroom while Casey Novak manipulated a civil court hearing to grant a mistrial in the case against Nathan Phelps. And the truth had hit her with every admission that had slipped out of Nathan's lips.

_She had been replaced._

She was no longer needed, no longer missed. New relationships had been forged, new cases won, and as she watched Olivia embrace Nathan after the hearing, she had silently slipped out of the courtroom unseen and accepted a position as a bureau chief—a position as far removed from the special victims unit as she could possibly find.

She had never let herself look back, had never confided in any of them that she was back in New York. She hadn't wanted to listen to false statements about how much she had been missed when clearly she was no longer needed. And she wasn't about to admit that it wasn't just a name she had lost when she went into witness protection—it was an entire identity. An identity defined by a job that consumed every last bit of her no matter how much she fought against it.

Alex took a deep breath, and steadied her voice. "I want to help."

Cragen rested a hand lightly on her shoulder and coaxed her to look up. "I know you do. But Alex, the best thing you can do for Olivia right now is go back to the House while we find Dale." He studied her, his gaze sharp. "That's an order, Councilor."

"I don't work for you." Alex's voice was still shaking.

Cragen nodded quietly. "I know," he agreed quietly. "But with Margaret dead, Dale is going to be looking for a replacement. I don't need to worry about both of you. I want you safe back at the House. Alex, Let us do our job." Cragen drew in a shaky breath and hoped his voice sounded stronger than he felt. "We'll find her."

* * *

Seconds slipped by.

But they didn't move. The lights around her were a blur as another car slipped through the halted traffic, its sirens blaring. Olivia could feel his body tense against hers, and she drew him in closer with a throaty laugh. "What's the matter, Dale?"

He didn't answer her. Instead he turned to glare over at the cab driver. "Can't you go around this?" he demanded.

"All…traffic…stopped. No way around," the cab driver shot back in broken English.

Dale's gaze was sharp as he studied the activity outside the window.

Olivia sidled up closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Don't be so tense," she slurred, her lips curving into a pout. She let her head drop back and casually glanced out the window. "Just looks like they're searchin' cars as they get on the 'xpressway." She arched an eyebrow and traced her hand down his chest. "Maybe we can give 'em a show when they stop us."

Dale's eyes darted back and forth between her and the slowly approaching lights outside the window. "I like something a little more private," he managed quietly.

"More private, huh?" Olivia winked back at him and slowly disentangled herself. She fumbled in her purse before removing a tube of lip-gloss and waited for a brief moment. As the car settled back to a stop, she pushed the door open and stumbled out of the cab.

"Hey, where you going?" The cab driver's voice was astonished. "You have to get out on the curb side."

Olivia let out a silver peal of laughter. "Oops." Her footsteps were unsteady as she walked.

Dale studied her carefully before tossing a wad of bills on the seat and following her. He slammed the door behind them and followed her lead up along the sidewalk. "We're in Red Hook, honey," he grumbled in her ear. "No subways."

Olivia moved closer, wrapping her arms around him again to hold herself up as she pulled him in close. "I wasn't planning on taking the subway." As a beat cop further down the sidewalk shot a curious glance toward them, she pulled him into an embrace. "There's a little hotel just a block away," she whispered. She winked. "You said you wanted something a little more private."

* * *

"Where the hell is she?"

The question was met with a moment of silence. Finally Cragen spoke up. "We'll find her, Elliot."

Munch and Fin exchanged looks. "We don't know for sure she was even here," Munch countered carefully. "There's no evidence to suggest she was."

"And nothing to suggest she wasn't," Fin shot back quickly.

Elliot swallowed hard. He shook his head, his eyes scanning the property carefully. He felt a stabbing pain in his chest that he recognized all too well, and he knew. "She was here," he insisted quietly. "I don't care what the evidence says. She was here."

Cragen nodded quietly. "Okay, so let's operate under the assumption that Elliot's right. Warner says Margaret's body is still warm. Now Dale has been gone for about an hour so if she was with him or following him, they couldn't have gone far. We have roadblocks set up so if he tried to take a cab or a car service, we'll catch him. All ferry service to Manhattan has been halted. He's not going to be able to get out of here."

"Unless he has help," Fin added quietly. "We may be looking for Dale, but he's not the only one on the run. There's a warrant out for Olivia's arrest. If she wants to avoid being arrested, you better believe she's staying out from under the radar until she's ready for us to find her."

"Let's hope by then it's not too late," Cragen added quietly. He hesitated before reaching for his phone, the expression on his face solemn. "I'm calling IAB. If Olivia was here, they need to know about it."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Elliot interrupted, snapping back to attention. "If IAB finds her, they're just going to lock her up. Do you really think that's what she needs right now?"

Cragen raised his eyes slowly before finally allowing them to rest on Elliot, offering him a silent apology. "We have to. If we don't start working together, we're not going to be able to help her at all. I'd rather Tucker find her right now than Dale."

* * *

"I underestimated you."

Dale's voice was cool, curious as the door fell shut silently behind them both. He slid the lock in place and watched her reaction carefully.

Olivia didn't flinch. She tossed her hair back and advanced a shaky step forward to close the distance between them. She tilted her head and moved closer so her breath was warm on his neck. "I'm not an idiot."

He pulled back ever so slightly, his fingers closing possessively over her. "I could be dangerous," he whispered, his voice low and rumbling.

Olivia's lips curved into a satisfied smirk. Her whispered response brushed lightly over his neck. "So could I." She allowed her hands to trail lightly across his chest and pulled his jacket over his shoulders, tossing it aside.

"You're drunk." His voice held a trace of uncertainty to it as he watched her lean into him for support.

"Mmmm," she murmured. "I am not drunk." Her words were slurred. "But I could definitely use another drink." She tilted her head back inquisitively and nodded toward the bottle across the room. "Don't you know how to pour a girl a glass of wine?"

His eyes traced over her slowly, but he didn't move away. His hands picked up where his eyes left off, and he watched. Waited for her response. Her resistance. "You can have a drink when I say so." His voice was harsh, all hint of playfulness gone. His hands claimed her, possessed her. Traveled every inch of her body until he was satisfied with what he found.

She swallowed hard. "And what about what I want?"

He could hear her trying to push the banter to the forefront, struggling for a control that had been obliterated long before she stepped in the room. And one he had no intention of letting her find again. Slowly, painstakingly, he closed the remaining space she had left until she found her back pressed up against a wall. "You'll learn to want what I give you."

Her hands stilled and started to flex in response to his words, pushing him away. But he didn't let them. His lips captured hers and devoured every one of her protests as his hips pushed her further into the unforgiving wall behind her.

She didn't fight him. She allowed him to overpower her until he knew she had relinquished what little control she once had. He owned her now.

He drew back from her so suddenly she emitted a tiny gasp. Her chest was heaving as she struggled to find her breath, and her eyes darted back and forth with uncertainty. She didn't know what to expect, and that's exactly where he wanted her.

"Let me get you that drink."

* * *

"This had better be good. Where the hell is everybody?"

Tucker's glare could be felt from the moment he walked in the bullpen. Alex drew her eyes up slowly in confusion. "They're still on scene in Red Hook," she responded quietly. "What are you doing here?"

"I called him in."

Alex whirled around at the sound of Morales' voice. His eyes were focused intently on the computer screen in front of him. Huang slowly moved closer. "Did you find something?" he demanded quickly.

Morales nodded. "Sergeant Tucker asked me to dump Olivia's phones. It didn't give me much, but this did." He nodded to the screen in front of him and hit a single key. The printer behind him whirred to life. "All cell phones have a GPS transponder encoded within them."

Huang hesitated. "But you can only read the location when 911 is dialed," he protested quietly.

"That's right," Morales agreed. He pushed the chair back and rose to his feet as he headed toward the printer to grab the loose sheet of paper waiting for him. "Lucky for us, Olivia knows that."

"Wait a minute," Tucker interrupted. "Are you telling me that Detective Benson actually gave up her location by dialing 911?"

"According to her phone records…yes. We've got the closest cell tower, latitude and longitude for when the call was made which just so happens to be only a couple of blocks away from where Margaret's body was found."

"When was the call made?" Tucker's voice was grim.

Morales hesitated. "About twenty minutes ago, and the signal has barely moved since."

"Wait a minute," Alex interrupted. "She's still on the line?"

"Well, she's never been on the line," Morales clarified. "The operator at the 911 call center who took the call has been unable to discern anything more than background noise. They traced the call and sent a unit out to respond, but they're having problems locating her."

Tucker reached for his phone. "I'm calling Captain Cragen. I'll have him meet us there. In the meantime, is there anything you can use to help them track her down?"

Morales reached for his jacket. "The signal stopped moving shortly after the call was initiated. I can walk them through finding her.

Tucker nodded at Morales. "Then I'm calling additional units there. We'll search everywhere until we find her. She's got to be there somewhere."

* * *

Her heart was racing, her breathing suddenly shallow as she watched him step back away from her.

_What the hell was she doing?_

She watched him pour another drink and wondered at what point she lost her perspective, her ability to see through the dizzying scene unfolding before her eyes. She wondered at what point she stopped caring. She had already lost far more than she was willing to admit. And that scared the hell out of her because all of a sudden she had no idea what she was doing here anymore.

She reached forward, fumbling for the purse that had fallen next to the bed. Her back was still to him when she felt his hand molding to her hip as he spun her around to face him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She reached for the stem of the glass he extended toward her and attempted to steady her hand as she drew it to her lips. "Nowhere," she breathed. She glanced up at him, noticing for the first time that his hands were empty. "Where's yours?" Her lips turned downward in a pout as she allowed his hands to slowly trace a path up her ribcage. His touch was rough, unforgiving.

"More for you," he whispered quietly.

There were consequences for her actions. She knows this, but for once she doesn't care. She's already watched them play out and the fact that there is no unknown is part of what pushes her to draw the glass to her lips again. Her life has been a series of unknowns for nine months now. She's tired of not knowing what to expect. At least now she knows. She controls the outcome. She has pushed things too far already, and she knows that he's not going to take no for an answer. Her refusal will be the final breaking point for her. Her acceptance will seal her fate. Either way, it's the equivalent of eating her gun.

She should probably care, but she doesn't.

Olivia drained the glass and slid it across the nightstand next to him. Her movement was a silent challenge. The smile that snaked across his face told her she'd succeeded in escalating it to the next level. He moved closer, pushing her back up against the wall with a force that momentarily stole her breath away. She felt his hands on her, his breath warm on her neck, but everything was too hazy for her to comprehend what was happening. Before she could stop them, the words that slipped out of her mouth were a low whisper. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

He was distracted as his hands slipped through the dark tendrils framing her face, but when he jerked her head over to his waiting mouth, she knew he hadn't let himself go. "Notice what?"

"That you were running from the police." Her response was a silent challenge as she drew back ever so slightly. She watched his jaw tense in front of her and slowly he started to pull away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her again. "That you've been trying to get me drunk." Her lips closed over his, and she waited until he was hungry for more before she withdrew ever so slightly. "That you need me."

* * *

"I don't see her." Elliot's voice was frantic as he scanned the building in front of him. "Goddamn it. She's not here."

"She has to be here," Munch shot back stubbornly. He lifted the radio in his hands, his jaw clenched tightly. "Morales, we've searched every building in the area. We could use a little help here."

"The signal is coming from right where you are," came the clipped response over the radio. There was a moment of hesitation. "What about the cars? If she's stuck behind the roadblock, she wouldn't be moving."

Cragen nodded. He glanced around him at his three remaining detectives. "All right," he began firmly. "I want every car in this immediate area searched. That includes the back of trucks, interiors, and…" He hesitated. "And trunks," he finished quietly.

All time stood still as he waited for the first response. He was unable to think, unable to breathe. And silently he said a prayer for the first time in years to a God he thought had stopped listening the day his world crashed down in the swamps of the Everglades.

"Captain!"

Slowly, dizzyingly, the world came back into focus. He drew his head up slowly, his feet moving before his mind had even interpreted the words around him. He stopped when he saw Elliot standing outside of a cab.

As he peered inside the backseat, he saw what had drawn Elliot's attention. "Captain, that's Olivia's lip-gloss."

Elliot reached further and slowly removed a phone that someone had slid between the car door and the seat. As soon as he picked it up, they could hear the quiet voice on the other line still attempting to get a response.

* * *

_That you need me_

Olivia tilted her head back and waited for a response.

"What are you talking about?" Dale's voice was a low, predatory growl as his right hand snaked over to pin both of her wrists together. He leaned closer, his forearm closing in around her strangled efforts to draw in a breath.

Olivia didn't move, didn't flinch. Didn't back down. She refused to let her body respond to its need for oxygen. Slowly, he released the pressure and the sudden rush of air into her lungs made her knees weak. She struggled to support her own weight.

"I don't need anyone," he shot back.

She needed to find control again because she could feel it slipping away as his fingers tightened around her wrists.

_You wouldn't dare talk to me like that if you didn't have that badge and gun._

The words that flew to her mind suddenly held a new connotation to them despite the six years that had elapsed since they had been spoken. They echoed within her now, a painful reminder of just how far she'd fallen. Because six years ago, she hadn't given a second thought to them. Six years ago, it had been enough for her sense of strength to be infused with her identity on the job.

It had stopped being enough the day she found herself groveling on a cold, dingy basement floor.

Detective Benson would have never begged. Olivia Benson did.

The Olivia Benson that had been stripped of her badge and gun was suddenly powerless, vulnerable. Unable to talk back. Unable to fight back.

She needed to escape the shadow of that person before she could ever move forward. She needed to know that her strength could be about more than just a badge and gun strapped to her belt every morning. Until she found that, she couldn't feel safe.

She needed to feel safe.

* * *

"Where is she?"

Cragen snapped back to attention as he realized that Elliot had dragged the cab driver out and pushed him up against the car.

"I don't know where they go," the cab driver protested.

"Elliot," Cragen insisted quietly. He stepped in between the two men, turning to the driver and drew in a deep breath. "Was she alone?"

"She…with…some…man." The driver glanced suspiciously back at Elliot. "She got out of the car before I could stop her."

Elliot had finally managed to calm down. He drew in a shaky breath. "Which way did they go?"

The cab driver pointed east. "That way."

Munch jogged over in time to catch the end of the conversation. He glanced toward the uniformed officers at the end of the block. "Maybe one of them saw something," he suggested, his voice tense.

Cragen had already called one of them over. A young uniformed officer sauntered over slowly. "Did you see a couple get out of this cab within the last half hour," he demanded. "They would have headed east from here."

The officer laughed. "Sure, she could barely walk. Pretty little thing too."

Elliot's jaw tensed and his hands coiled into fists. Before he could react, Munch interrupted. "Did you see where they went?"

The officer shook his head. "Not exactly, but she wouldn't have made it very far. She looked pretty drunk."

"Why the hell didn't you stop them?" Cragen demanded.

"Do you want me to stop every couple who hooks up and decides they don't want to wait to get to the bedroom," the officer protested. "I'm not the sex police—that's your job. I was ordered to stop every car coming through to find a guy matching this description." The officer held up a photo of Dale Spring.

"Well, while you stood there, they walked right out of here," Munch shot back. He turned to his partner. "Fin, you live in Brooklyn. Where do you think they were headed?"

"There's only one hotel in Red Hook proper," Fin began slowly. "It overlooks the Brooklyn Battery tunnel toll plaza."

"That's only a block away," Cragen responded quietly. He drew in a shaky breath. "Let's go."

* * *

_I don't need anyone._

Olivia's lips curved upward slyly. "Yeah, you do," she whispered. "You needed me to get you out of that cab, and you need me right now."

Dale breathed down on her neck. "You seem awfully sure of that." He rolled his hips forward and waited for her reaction. She refused to give him one, and she could see that fascinated him. Slowly, he released her wrists, his body tensing as he waited for her response.

"You need me as much as I need you," Olivia breathed. She wrapped one arm around him and pulled him closer. "So why don't you tell me where we go from here."

Dale smirked back at her. "I don't need help."

"Yeah, you do. You need someone who understands you. Understands what you need." Olivia slid out from beneath him.

"You have no idea what I need."

"No?" Olivia took an unsteady step toward the bed. "You need someone you can overpower but who isn't afraid to step up," she slurred as she fumbled for the empty wine glass. "You need someone who you think you can read, but who keeps you on your toes when you realize that everything you thought you knew was just a façade." She took a step forward, her voice, her movement suddenly completely sober.

He stepped back away from her and walked toward the bottle of wine, glass in hand. As he poured two fresh glasses, she finally turned her back to him. "Not bad," he managed quietly. "But you're asking me to trust you. I don't do trust."

Her focus was trained on the window in front of her, and she hesitated. "So what are you going to do—shoot me?" Her voice was quiet.

As she slowly rotated to face him, she finally saw the gun pointed at her. Olivia laughed softly. "There's just one problem with that, Dale? You have a hell of a lot at stake if I die." She tossed her hair back and raised the Glock in her hand toward him. "I'm already on trial for murder so I don't have anything to lose."

* * *


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

* * *

"Do we have a visual yet?"

A series of short bursts from the radio transmitter followed Tucker's question as the Fugitive Apprehension Team waiting outside settled in and waited for further instructions.

Elliot's eyes were glued to the image that appeared in front of him as he focused in on the only piece of her he could find. His pulse was racing, his heart torn in two. And all he could do was watch and wait. His eyes flew over to Cragen, a desperate plea to do something. Anything.

"Not yet." Cragen answered Elliot's silent question with a reassuring look. He watched the scene in front of him unfold with a mixture of apprehension and horror as Olivia did what every one of her years of training had taught her not to do—she turned her back.

"Your detective is out of control," Tucker snapped. "Turning her back to a suspect. What exactly does she think she's going to accomplish by being in there? We don't have probable cause for an arrest, and even if we did, she can't arrest him. She has no more rights than a citizen off the street, and if she pulls her weapon and tries to forcibly take him in, we're going to have to charge her with aggravated assault."

Dale reached over to grab his jacket from the floor, and Cragen sensed the gun even before he watched him pull it out of his jacket pocket.

_Not bad. But you're asking me to trust you. I don't do trust._

Olivia's focus was still trained out the window, and Cragen held his breath, waiting for her response. Waiting for her to react. She didn't. She silently studied Dale's reflection through the window. When she finally spoke, she didn't bother to turn around.

_So what are you going to do—shoot me?_

Cragen watched her rotate slowly, watched as she waited until she saw the gun in Dale's hand before she responded. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her pull her Glock out of the purse in her hand. She tilted her head up, the expression on her face defiant. And slowly she raised her weapon.

_There's just one problem with that, Dale. You have a hell of a lot at stake if I die. I'm already on trial for murder so I don't have anything to lose._

Absolute silence settled over all of them as Olivia's words filtered through the screen in front of them. Fin swallowed hard. "What the hell is she thinking? She's going to get herself killed."

Cragen glanced back and forth between his detectives and Tucker. "Where do we go from here?"

"_We_ don't do anything," Tucker responded quietly. "_I'll_ take it from here."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Cragen snapped. "I didn't call you in so you could shut us down. That's one of my detectives in there."

Tucker smirked. "She's not one of your _detectives_ right now, Captain. May I remind you that she's on trial for murder. She has absolutely no standing in there."

"She's trying to take down a rapist and murderer who has trafficked in dozens of children," Fin shot back, no longer able to hold his tongue.

"You have no proof he's done any of that," Tucker protested swiftly. "If you did, you might actually have a warrant for his arrest or at least be able to do something. Right now, we can't even question him because Olivia found the need to take things in her own hands. And regardless of how you feel about him, just remember he has rights too."

"What about Olivia's rights?" Elliot asked quietly.

"Olivia smoked her rights the second she violated her bail agreement and took a suspect hostage."

"Wait a minute," Munch interrupted, glaring back at Tucker. "Dale pulled his gun on her."

"I don't care who pulled the gun first. She doesn't need to be in there with a weapon," Tucker managed evenly.

"Give her a chance," Elliot pleaded, his voice suddenly quiet.

"She's drunk," Tucker shot back dryly. "Which makes her completely unpredictable. That's not a chance I can take." He drew in a deep breath and reached for the radio on his belt. "Tell the sharpshooters to get ready. I want to know as soon as they have a clear shot."

* * *

"You're drunk."

Dale studied her. His words were a statement, and yet there was a question attached to them. A trace of uncertainty. He wanted to know. Needed to know the answer.

Olivia nodded. "It's possible," she conceded quietly. "It's also possible I'm not. So tell me, Dale. Are you willing to take that chance?"

His voice was curious now. "You don't get anywhere if you play it safe. And I sure as hell don't trust anyone else."

Olivia smirked in return. "Really? How's that working out for you?"

The slightest bit of hesitation on his face told her the words had hit home. Her lips curved upward in a smile. "Go on, admit it. Your track record with partners isn't very good." She hesitated. "Maybe I don't want in."

His eyes darted over to hers. "What do you know about my track record?"

"I know that Pasha was the only one smart enough not to get pinched," Olivia taunted him lightly. "And that you were lucky he managed to keep everything under wraps while you served two years for drug possession charges." She tilted her head. "So tell me Dale, how did you convince him to let you back in?"

"Pasha didn't stand a chance without me. He was losing control of the girls when I went away. He had to bring Margaret in just to keep them coming. And then all of a sudden when I come back, he thinks he can keep running things without me?" Dale laughed harshly. "I don't think so. But enough about me." His eyes darted back and forth. "I want to know how you know all this. Are you a cop?"

Olivia took an unsteady step closer. "How many cops do you know who are on trial for murder?" She lowered her Glock slowly and stumbled closer, drawing her free arm around his neck. "And how many cops do you know who would do this…"

As she sidled up closer to him, he ran his free hand up and down her body. When he was satisfied that she wasn't wearing a wire, he took a step back away from her. "Not so fast. I want to know more about you."

Olivia nodded recklessly. "What do you want to know?"

Dale hesitated. "I'm usually a pretty good judge of character…at least until you came along. But you…you've done your homework. That fascinates me."

"I'll bet it does," she countered. She held her breath as he moved closer again. And then he was right in front of her. One hand reached out, caressing her cheek before drawing back warily. Olivia flinched ever so slightly.

He noticed. "You don't like that, do you?"

"What I don't like is someone who changes the subject," Olivia managed quietly. "I don't work with strangers." She retreated away from him again until she felt her back come in contact with the wall. She hesitated. "So how did you convince Pasha to let you back in? Did you threaten to expose the whole thing?"

Dale shook his head without moving, watching with satisfaction as she realized there was nowhere else for her to go. "Daddy dearest finding his long-lost daughter after all those years." His lips twisted into an amused smile. "Nobody would question that."

"Except maybe your own daughter," Olivia shot back coldly.

"That's the problem with women," Dale sneered. "They can't keep their mouth shut."

Olivia nodded silently, watching as he raised the gun in his hand back toward her again. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "You mean like Margaret?" She tilted her head. "So tell me, Dale. Is that why you killed her?"

Dale's lips twisted into a grim smile as he cocked the trigger. "No, that was just an added benefit. I killed her because she learned to fight back."

Olivia's heart was pounding in her chest. She focused straight ahead and struggled to keep her voice strong. "You mean when she killed Pasha?"

Dale nodded. "Yeah. And unlike my partner, I don't trust anyone. That includes you."

* * *

"Why the hell didn't she take his gun when he let his guard down?" Tucker's voice cut through the momentary silence in the room.

Cragen's eyes were fixated on the screen as he watched the scene play out in front of him. "Because she needed him to trust her," he responded quietly. He shook his head in amazement. "She's getting a full confession out of him."

"Or she's drunk and doesn't know what she's doing," Tucker shot back. "Confession or not, she's going to get herself killed."

"She doesn't care," Elliot answered gravely. "He just killed the one person who can prove her innocence. With Margaret dead, her confession to us will never be admissible in court. Olivia has no way out."

"Unless the prosecution has reasonable doubt as to the defendant's guilt." Tracy Kibre's voice rang out from behind them. Her voice softened. "Which after listening to what I just heard, I do."

"Then let's get her out of there safely," Cragen suggested grimly, nodding at Tucker. "With that chain-lock in place, we're not going to make it in that door without giving him time to get a shot out."

"That's what the sharpshooters are for," Tucker added quietly. His eyes settled on Elliot. "But before I give them their cue, I need to know how she's going to react. How drunk is she?"

Elliot raised his head slowly. "If there's one thing I know, it's my partner. It's all an act. She's not drunk."

"Are you sure?" Tucker waited for Elliot to nod in response. He gestured toward the door. "Then get your ass down there and wait for my cue. Once that shot goes off, we're going to need to disarm her before anyone else gets hurt."

* * *

Time stood still.

The single shot rang out, and Olivia's eyes slammed shut as she prepared her body for the impact. It never came.

"Drop your weapon."

Slowly, Olivia opened her eyes. Dale's body had crumbled to the floor, his gun lying aimlessly at his side. Unfamiliar voices, unfamiliar faces crowded in around her and gradually Olivia became aware of the Glock still clutched tightly in her trembling hand.

"Liv, it's me." Elliot's voice was suddenly soft. His footsteps slowed as he approached her. His eyes sought hers—to comfort her, to calm her, to tell her he was there for her.

She drew her gaze up slowly. Her eyes were empty. "I didn't mean to…"

Elliot shook his head. "You didn't do anything, Liv," he assured her gently. "It was the sharpshooters on the roof." He reached forward and pulled the Glock from her hand.

She didn't notice. She pressed her back against the wall and slid to the floor. Elliot swallowed hard and gently knelt down beside her. There was a new sense of panic in her eyes. "Am I going to be arrested now?" Her voice was dull.

Elliot drew in a deep breath and fought to steady his voice. "No, Alex is at Petrovsky's house right now. Tracy Kibre heard what Dale said and is dropping the charges. You're going home, Liv."

Slowly, she raised her head, her eyes unable to meet his. "I don't want to go home right now." Her voice was trembling.

Elliot nodded quietly and reached for her arm to help pull her up to her feet. "Then let's take you back to the House." His eyes settled on her torn shirt, and he silently offered her his jacket. "You can get cleaned up in the crib."

"Is he…" Olivia pursed her lips and fought to control her voice again. Her eyes darted over to where EMS workers had gathered around Dale.

"He's still alive." Elliot answered her unspoken question. "But he won't be hurting anyone else ever again."

Olivia nodded woodenly. "What about his confession? I stalled as long as I could until it looked like there were enough people outside for you to have set up the equipment. Did you get his confession recorded?"

Elliot swallowed hard. He had never seen her look so empty before. "Yeah, Liv. We got it." His voice softened. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

* * *

It was cold.

Her skin was scalding from the scorching heat radiating down upon her, and yet she was cold. Each droplet pounded into the recesses of her skin and permanently embedded another piece of itself within her. It was relentless. It was unforgiving. It was numbing. Somehow the heat slowly seeped into her, relaxing her body as it slumped forward, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest.

"Olivia."

The voice that called her name was quiet, tentative. Calling out from a distance that was somehow still too far away to catch her as she fell. She could feel the water pooling around her as she slid to the floor and as she settled onto the cold tile floor, she wrapped her arms around her chest and pulled herself into a ball.

She couldn't breathe.

Her shoulders began to tremble at the realization that the droplets streaming down her face were no longer those from the showerhead above. She wanted to control it, wanted to force them to stop, but she couldn't. They overtook her and as tears streamed down her face, she realized her entire body was shaking.

And for the first time, she let it take hold over her. She let it all go.

"Olivia, can I come in?"

The voice was softer now, frightened. And yet, she couldn't pinpoint the other emotions buried within it. The noise all around her drowned them out. Drowned everything out until the only thing she could hear was each labored struggle for more air against the sobs wracking her body.

Vaguely she became aware of the fact that the droplets above had stopped until the only thing that remained was the tears now flowing freely down her face. All around her, it was suddenly silent, calming. She could hear her heart pounding, could feel her pulse racing. She felt before she saw the rough fabric now draped over her shoulders. Slowly she drew her head up to find Alex beside her.

Her hand was extended without judgment. Without pity. And as Olivia reached up to accept it, she swallowed hard. "Come on," Alex offered softly. "Let's get you dressed."

Everything around her was still a haze as she pulled on the clothes that Alex had set out for her. "Olivia." Alex's voice was quiet, hesitant. She paused, and then as if sensing Olivia's need for something more, she turned toward the door. She paused. "Elliot asked me to tell you he's in the crib waiting for you if you needed anything."

And then she was gone.

Olivia was paralyzed with fear and uncertainty. She watched Alex walk away, and then before she could change her mind, she slowly allowed her feet to take over.

Six steps…five…four.

She lost count at some point as the pounding in her heart took over with its own steady rhythm. Olivia pushed the door open.

He was waiting for her and as soon as she saw him, she realized that she had never seen the look of absolute terror on his face before. His voice was barely more than a whisper. "I'll leave if you want me to."

He was looking at her for permission. For understanding. For strength. And suddenly, she became aware of the red-rimmed eyes and the fresh tears welling up in his eyes. Olivia swallowed hard and finally drew her head up to meet eyes that mirrored her own. "No, stay."

* * *

_Stay._

In one single word, she gave him back everything he thought he had lost. Elliot released the breath he had been holding and finally allowed his eyes to find hers for the first time. And suddenly he saw her. Saw her for who she was. The loose fitting sweatpants and NYPD t-shirt left her raw, open, vulnerable. She hid nothing, instead finally giving herself up for him to see.

A knot tightened in his throat and suddenly he realized he had tears in his eyes. Tears mirrored by those that had crept back in her own eyes. Silently, he held out the gray hooded sweatshirt dangling from his fingertips. "I thought you might want this."

He watched her slide her arms through each sleeve, watched her pull her armor closer to her as she took a seat on the bed across from him. And for the first time, he felt like he still knew who she was beneath it. He felt like her armor was a part of him too. "El, I'm sorry. I should have talked to you. I should have…"

Elliot shook his head. "You did what you needed to do, Liv," he finished quietly. "And when it came right down to it, I knew what you needed. I just wish you had known that I was there."

Olivia drew her head up slowly. "I did know, El. I've always known." She chewed on her bottom lip for a brief moment. "I was tired of fighting so hard to do everything myself. That's why I…that's why I left the phone in the car."

Relief flooded over him. But before he could say another word, her arm shot up to stop him.

"El, please, just let me say this. I know that I've pushed you away." Her eyes darted away before finally meeting his again. "A lot," she continued quietly. "And not just over this case or even what happened at Sealview." She drew in a deep breath. "The truth is I was afraid to admit that I couldn't do everything myself. But now, I…I've finally realized that I don't have to do everything alone."

Elliot swallowed hard. "Liv, sometimes our strongest moments are those times where we trust that someone else can help us through whatever it is we're going through. It's not about being weak—it's about being strong enough to say we can get through it together."

Olivia nodded. "I know that now. El, I've…" She hesitated. "I've made a lot of mistakes. I've done a lot of things that I regret, and I don't want to keep making them. I want to get through this. I want to be there for you again. I just…I need help getting there."

"Asking for help is a step in the right direction, Liv." Elliot's voice was serious. His lips twisted upward ever so slightly. "Of course if you want help, it's going to cost you."

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Cost me?" she mused. She arched an eyebrow at him. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Well, since you did make me miss dinner, I'm thinking that might possibly be a good start."

"Dinner?" Olivia glanced down at her watch. "It's almost one o'clock in the morning, El."

"Exactly." He extended a hand to help her to her feet. "We're still a couple hours ahead of schedule."

Olivia laughed lightly and accepted his hand. "I am _not_ buying you dinner." She glanced down. "Especially if you're going to take me out dressed like this."

"Fine," Elliot continued, picking up on her lighter tone. "We'll order take-out, but will you at least answer one question for me?"

She turned toward him cautiously and drew in a deep breath. "Okay, I suppose that's fair."

Elliot studied her carefully before responding. "Your last name," he finally managed curiously. "You kept your maiden name. When you got married, why didn't you change it?"

Olivia drew in a deep breath. "When I found out that I was the product of a rape, there were a lot of things about me that I never really knew where they came from. My name was the one thing that I did know—it wasn't a part of him. It was something that just belonged to my mother, and I guess I just didn't want to lose that."

Elliot nodded quietly. His voice was suddenly serious. "Thanks, Liv."

The corners of her lips turned upward in a smile. "Not knowing that was just killing you, wasn't it?"

"I never said that," Elliot protested, crossing his arms over his chest.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, exactly. Tell me El—how long did you spend trying to find out if I changed my name back after the accident?"

"I never…"

Olivia arched an eyebrow back at him. "Don't even try that on me, El. I'm your partner, remember?"

"Fine." He smirked back at her. "Two hours."

Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she gestured toward the door. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

* * *


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

* * *

It didn't used to be this way.

Olivia stared straight ahead at the closed door in front of her and contemplated whether or not to step through it. But not just step through it. That was the easy part. The hard part was what came next. The hard part was admitting that she wasn't just there on a case. Her eyes darted back and forth across the hallway, and for a brief moment she took a tentative step backward.

The images that raced through her mind haunted her. Elliot. Tybor. Bushido. Elliot. Dale.

_Elliot._

Damn it. She closed her eyes. Why did he have to be there? Why did he have to see the truth that she'd fought so hard to bury? And how the hell was she going to explain it to him?

_Once_. Once she could manage, but _two times_…yeah, that was never going to happen. She'd known that as she sat across from him, the lump in her throat prohibiting any further conversation. He hadn't tried to talk to her because he had known that she knew the truth. This time was different. This time there was no more pretending there were no other options. This time there was no more pretending she was seeing a weakness in a perp and exploiting it. This time he'd finally realized the truth.

She had lost control.

She wasn't sure how. She wasn't sure when. No, wait…scratch that. That was a lie, and she was supposed to be working toward the truth now.

She _had_ known when. She just wasn't ready to admit it yet. She wasn't ready to admit that her actions were just another item to be checked off on some list of reactions of a sexual assault victim. Oh, wait…the correct term was supposed to be survivor. She didn't want to be a survivor. And she definitely didn't want to be a victim. She just wanted to pretend that nothing had ever happened.

She wondered where that would fall on some damn psychiatrist's list.

Probably under denial—was denial a better place to be?

"Olivia?"

The door in front of her swung open, exposing her presence. Olivia froze.

Huang stood in the open doorway, his keys in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. The expression on his face looked startled. Or maybe confused. Olivia blinked. Either way, it didn't really matter. She swallowed hard. "Sorry, you're headed out."

"Olivia…"

"I'll come back…"

"Olivia," he interrupted gently. He nodded toward his office and flipped the light switch back on. "Come on in."

She hated talking about it. Talking about this. She'd tried. And the only thing it had done for her was convince her that words were useless. It was like trying to find a way to tell someone what her job was like. There were simply no man-made words in the entire English language that came close to describing the gut-wrenching world that inundated them day after day. Or to describe what that did to them, how it changed them.

_How it led to this._

Huang was still waiting for her to speak, but somehow she still couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to give him words because when she finally started to talk about it, she was terrified of what might come out.

"What's going on, Olivia?" he prompted her gently.

Shit. She still hadn't said anything. She glanced around wildly, looking for something, anything to distract her. It wasn't working. And she knew it. "I don't know what to say."

There…that seemed safe.

"Yesterday was a very traumatic day. It's natural to feel overwhelmed."

Olivia shook her head softly. "I'm not just talking about that," she admitted quietly. "It's…it's like everything has changed, and I don't even know who I am anymore."

The words sounded weak to her own ears—vulnerable. Olivia wasn't ready to see the recognition in his eyes when he figured it out. She turned away and studied the edge of the window frame.

She was still studying it when he spoke again. "You mean since Sealview?"

She nodded, her eyes staying focused on the window. Staying focused on anything but his inquisitive gaze. His interpretive words. His determination to strip her of the truth.

God, she was cynical. Here she was asking him for help and mentally tearing him apart all at the same time. She was lucky he hadn't thrown her out yet. Olivia looked up, reluctantly meeting his waiting gaze. "Yeah," she agreed.

"Have you been talking to anybody about it?"

"Not since the last time I was here with you. I don't want to deal with it. I just want to move on, but no matter how hard I try, I can't stop it from affecting me on the job."

_There, she'd said it. _

She bit down on the corner of her lip and waited for his response.

His voice was gentle when he responded. "How do you think it affects you on the job?"

Olivia swallowed hard. Her eyes dropped away from his. "I let them use me. Use my body. I just put it out there on display like it was some damn piece of property. And I…I don't know what that means."

Huang nodded quietly. "What do you think it means?"

Olivia turned back toward him. She finally took a seat across from him. "Self-medicating with alcohol, hyper-sexual activities, partaking in risky behavior—it's the outward adjustment stage of rape trauma system. George, that much I know, but…"

"Those are clinical expressions, Olivia." Huang added quietly. "That's not what I asked."

Olivia swallowed hard. "I understand why it happens. What I don't understand is how to stop it, how to move forward."

"You've already taken the first step in making that happen."

Olivia's head shot up in surprise. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to make sense of his words. Finally, she allowed her focus to settle on him. "What are you talking about?"

"Olivia, you're here, and you haven't run away yet. Recovery is not something that's going to happen overnight, but you have to stop being so hard on yourself. You have to stop analyzing what you're going through and just let yourself feel something."

Olivia's voice was trembling when she spoke. "I'm afraid of feeling something."

Huang nodded. "I know," he agreed quietly. "But Olivia, there's no answer out there that's going to just help you get through this. There's not. You want to try to control everything and turn it all into something that's black and white, but the truth is, you just can't. The world is one big shade of gray and when you finally accept that, that's when you can finally start to move forward."

"George, I've screwed up so many things. I don't think that I can ever go back again."

"That's a decision only you can make," Huang responded gently. He studied her carefully. "Do you want to go back?"

She raised her eyes to meet his. "I don't want to listen to someone tell me I can't go back. I just…I can't handle it."

Huang nodded. "You didn't answer the question, Olivia. Do you want to go back?"

She wanted to shrink away from him. She wanted to run before he could demand an answer out of her, but she couldn't do it. She was tired—tired of running, tired of pretending. Tired of the sheer amount of emotional energy it took to pretend that she was fine. She swallowed hard. When she finally answered his question, the single word that slipped out was barely more than a whisper. "Yes."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

* * *

"Come in."

Olivia pushed open the door in front of her and froze. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you were in the middle of a…" She trailed off and started to turn back around.

"No, stay." Tucker's voice was commanding.

Olivia swallowed hard and quietly stepped back into Cragen's office, closing the door behind her. "Okay." She took a deep breath, her eyes darting over to meet Cragen's. "Look, about what happened yesterday. It was a…"

"A dangerous thing to do," Tucker shot back. "There's no excuse for what you did. It was way off the books not to mention the fact that you were on suspension from the unit and on trial for murder at the time."

Olivia dropped her eyes down to the floor. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I should let you go right now." Tucker glared back at her and hesitated. "But while I don't approve of your actions, you did manage to get a confession out of a man who the Feds have been trying to nail for the last four years," he responded grudgingly. "We convinced Dale we'd transfer him upstate in return for pleading guilty and giving us the names of hundreds of pedophiles."

Olivia's head shot up in surprise.

Tucker's voice was sharp. "That doesn't excuse your actions, but under the circumstances, I'll cut you some slack. You need help, Detective."

Olivia nodded quietly. "I know that now."

"Good, because I guarantee you this is the last chance I'm giving you." He glanced over at Cragen. "Two week suspension without pay while we finish getting all of our paperwork in order." His gaze returned back to Olivia. "And may I suggest that you take that time to get some help."

Olivia's eyes widened as she stared back at Tucker. Her voice was hesitant. "You're letting me come back to work?"

Tucker headed toward the door, his face completely stoic. "Consider it an early Christmas present."

And without another word, he was gone. Olivia's eyes darted over to Cragen. "What the hell just happened?"

"I think Scrooge finally had a change of heart." Cragen drew himself up to his feet. "What do you think about going out to celebrate?"

Olivia paused. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke. "That's probably not a good idea."

The corner of his lips turned up in a smile. "Holiday party at my house with a little non-alcoholic egg nog?"

"Okay, she agreed quietly. Olivia hesitated. "But there's something I need to do first."

* * *

The leaves behind Olivia rustled in the faint wind as if somehow mocking her. Silently she pulled her jacket closer around her. The fabric did little to protect her from a bitter cold only she could feel. A single tear slowly traced a path down her face. She brushed it aside, fighting to maintain her composure. She was so cold, weak, and tired. Olivia tried to fight against it, but she could feel her knees buckling beneath her as she dropped down to the ground. She traced her fingers lightly along the single name embedded in the limestone.

_Stephen Leawood._

The image began to blur as a second tear slowly slipped out. And then a third. Olivia could feel her lungs restricting, could feel her heart pounding. The world seemed to be spinning out of control, and Olivia allowed it to envelope her. The tears flowed faster than she could brush them aside, and time stood still as her shoulders wracked with deep, aching sobs. Then, as if shaken into reality, she heard the soft footsteps behind her. Olivia drew her gaze up slowly as she sensed Elliot's presence. Her hand self-consciously came up to brush the tears away as he knelt down beside her. His hand rested lightly over her shoulder, stopping her. "Don't." He swallowed hard and offered her the bouquet of roses in his hand. As her eyes darted away from his, he took a deep breath.

She nodded quietly, allowing her eyes to fall to the ground as she gently set the flowers next to the barren earth. Olivia slowly drew her gaze back up to meet his eyes. "I never got to say goodbye." Her shoulders fell forward as her hand settled lightly on her stomach. "When I woke up in the hospital, I knew that something was wrong. I just felt so empty."

Silence enveloped them for a long moment before Elliot finally spoke. "You know, Liv. Sometimes it's okay to cry."

Olivia's lower lip began to tremble, her eyes shimmering with a fresh sheen of tears. She drew in a shaky breath. "As soon as the doctor came to my room, I knew they were both gone. My mother took me home from the hospital, and I…I never came here. Not even when I moved in with Liz to help her take care of the kids. I just…I couldn't do it, El."

Elliot nodded quietly and sensing her need to be alone, he rocked back on his heels and drew himself to his feet. Olivia never saw him leave. She pressed her palm lightly against the coarse stone, allowing her eyes to slide closed as she felt the cold seep into her body. Her hair fell forward in her face as if shielding her from the guilt and numbness swirling around her. She let the emotions drain out of her until the only thing remaining was an aching sorrow that she had pushed away for the last twenty-three years.

Her eyes fluttered open and settled on the bouquet of roses in front of her. Swallowing the knot in her throat, Olivia reached forward and removed a single rose. She drew it to her lips one final time before allowing it to rest on the ground, nestled between the tombstone and the rest of the bouquet. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper. "I love you."

As she drew herself to her feet, Cragen came up behind her. "Are you ready?"

Olivia nodded silently and slowly raised her eyes up to meet his. "Thank you." She allowed her eyes to sweep over to where Munch, Fin, Elliot, and Alex stood waiting for her. She brushed back the final traces of tears, her lips twisting upward in a small smile. "I think I'm ready for that egg nog now."

"Then it sounds like to a Christmas party we go," Alex suggested lightly.

"Must I remind you that although 76% of the US population identifies themselves with some derivative of Christianity, the little guys left behind spend every year sitting at home twiddling their thumbs and reflecting on the fact that the world around them has virtually shut down for one day of the year."

Fin rolled his eyes. "Come on, man. Mazel tov. Get over it."

* * *

"I've finally figured it out."

Elliot glanced around the room. He shrugged his shoulders and nudged his glass away from the edge of the coffee table. "All right, I'll bite. You finally figured what out, John?"

"This whole family thing. It's a conspiracy." Munch raised the mug in his hands to his lips and waited for a response to his declaration.

"Oh, this should be good," Fin muttered under his breath.

Olivia's eyes met Munch's from across the room and suddenly she understood. Her heart pulled inside her chest at the unspoken words between them.

There were words that when spoken, were approached with such a degree of caution that sometimes she wanted to pretend they didn't exist. _Marriage. Husband. Family. _All three now added to some list of words never to be spoken in her presence. Along with _child of rape, abortion_, and _father_. She wanted to be normal again, wanted to ignore the words that spilled forth without meaning rather than decipher those left out in order to not upset her. Olivia smiled softly. "What kind of conspiracy, John?" she asked lightly.

Fin rolled his eyes at her. "Please don't encourage him," he managed, reaching for the mug in front of him and throwing back the rest of his drink.

Munch's eyes narrowed. "You jest, but it's true." He sighed. "It only took me four times to figure it out."

Cragen crossed his arms in front of him and leaned forward interested. "So you've finally figured out what went wrong?" he asked, the tone of his voice amused.

Munch shook his head. "What went wrong with my marriage, no."

"Don't you mean _marriages_?" Fin inserted.

"Yeah, whatever. It's irrelevant. The point I'm trying to make here is that it's nothing more than an economic conspiracy to drain you of every last penny you have left. Seriously, think about it. The whole concept of a family was to create a socially acceptable means of procreation with two sexually exclusive individuals."

"Yeah, so what's wrong with that?" Alex countered, glancing over at him with amusement. "I mean besides the fact that clearly sexually exclusive is a relative term that in no way represents a marital alliance."

"What's wrong is that the very principle behind it has been completely commercialized and turned into an industry meant to generate outlandish profits at the expense of the American people." He took a deep breath, his face completely serious. "You know the average cost of a wedding is approximately $30,000. That doesn't even take into consideration wedding and shower gifts. On top of that, you're paying the state for the marriage license itself. And what are you really getting out of it in the end besides heart break, lawyer's fees, and a settlement that's guaranteed to plague you for the rest of your life?"

"I don't know, John," Elliot returned. "Somebody to share your life with."

Munch nodded eagerly at his response. "Exactly—how many times when you and Kathy were married did you ever share anything with her about your life at this job?" There was silence around the room. Munch smirked in satisfaction. "Yeah, I thought so. Now how many times have you shared that with Olivia? There's no benefit to being married, so why get married at all? Why pay all that money for the state to recognize that you've screwed up?"

"I don't know, John. Some people want to have children," Alex attempted tentatively, carefully watching the expression on Olivia's face.

Olivia shook her head. "Children are not mutually exclusive to a marriage," she countered.

"Exactly," Munch declared triumphantly. "Today, the state pays for couples to have children. It's turned into a commercialized business that's based on your status in the system, not on your ability to take care of a child."

"Well, I won't argue with that," Elliot agreed, looking back over at Olivia.

She smiled reassuringly at him. "I'm fine," she whispered. He nodded.

And before anyone could say anything else, Alex's phone rang. "Sorry guys. I'd love to hear more about it, but duty calls."

As she stepped away for a moment, Fin looked back at his partner. "Fine, families are a conspiracy," he agreed. "Now can we just drop it?"

Alex came back up beside them. "Sounds like an excellent idea to me." She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight uneasily. "I'm beat. What do you say we call it a night?"

Elliot nodded. "Sounds like a great idea. Anyone else ready to get out of here?"

Olivia drew herself to her feet. "Sure, somehow not working is far more exhausting than actually working," she conceded. She turned back toward Elliot and grabbed the jacket he tossed at her.

As everyone else started to walk toward the door, Cragen reached out to grab Alex's arm and pull her back toward him, his face suddenly serious. "Not so fast. You want to tell me why you're in such a hurry to get out of here?" he asked softly.

She nodded. "Yeah, that was Jack McCoy. The DA's office did everything they could to keep Olivia's trial out of the media, but apparently some bloodhound over in the courthouse caught word and one case managed to slip through the cracks before they quashed all the others."

Cragen studied her face carefully. "That was to be expected," he added. "We knew that might be a problem going into this so why the long face? Who's the bastard they let out?"

Alex hesitated. The name that rolled off of her tongue stopped him dead in his tracks. "Richard White."

* * *

THE END

* * *

_**Author's Note: **_Thanks everyone for making it all the way through with me. It's been a fun journey. I hope you'll take a moment to let me know what you think. And yes, I did leave you with a cliffhanger...let me know what you think about an eventual sequel?


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